Gemotions

He stared at the small, intricately carved wooden bird. He remembered the boy who had made it. Daniel. He had been a quiet child, but intensely focused, especially when it came to his woodwork. Mr. Evans kept it on his desk, but it was now giving him the creeps.

The gift had arrived that morning, a simple wooden bird. No note, just the bird. He went over to the window, peering out into the street. The afternoon was quiet, but he still couldn't relax.

He rubbed his temples, trying to dispel the growing feeling that something was wrong. He paced the small living room, his boots making heavy sounds on the hardwood floor. He felt the need to take action, some way to get rid of this feeling.