Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mimicking the frantic drumming in David’s ears. The oak, a majestic sentinel for decades, lay sprawled across his neighbour's garden, a brutal display of nature's power. He’d been working on a model ship, meticulously placing tiny sails, but now his hands trembled, and he'd dropped his tweezers.

He paced his living room, the familiar routine of his steps a futile attempt to regain some semblance of control. The news, blaring from the television, repeated the same stories of destruction and loss, each report a hammer blow to his already fragile composure. He switched it off, the sudden silence somehow more oppressive.

He thought of his own trees, their gnarled branches reaching towards the sky. He found himself staring at them through the downpour, a knot forming in his stomach. He pictured the wind, the storm, the potential for ruin.