Gemotions

"Everything alright, Paul?" The fireman's voice, kind but probing, seemed to scrape against Paul's already raw nerves. He stood on his porch, watching the chaos next door, the flashing lights painting the scene in a lurid strobe. He’d never felt so… exposed.

He hadn't slept well in weeks, but tonight the exhaustion had vanished. He felt wired, every nerve ending buzzing. He kept running his hands through his hair, a nervous habit he hadn't displayed since childhood.

"Fine," he muttered, the word a brittle shield against the world. He couldn't meet the fireman's gaze, but found himself looking repeatedly towards his own house, at the seemingly sturdy brick walls, at the windows he now felt were insufficient protection.