Gemotions

The crash rattled the windows, setting the wind chimes dancing a frantic, discordant tune. Mark stood frozen, a half-eaten sandwich dangling from his limp fingers. He'd been looking forward to a quiet lunch. Now, the air was thick with the scent of pine and the unspoken threat of the unexpected.

He finally lowered the sandwich, placing it carefully on the kitchen counter. His stomach was suddenly churning. He felt a desperate urge to tidy up, to make the house feel safe, to make order out of the chaos next door. He started by wiping down the counter repeatedly, then nervously checked the locks on the doors and windows. The silence after was worse than the noise.