(Prompt: Write about an emotion without explicitly stating the emotion.)
The shutters on the outside of the house slam back and forth. I can feel the wood being slapped, crippling beneath the force of the storm. The power reverberates through me. My palms move up and down, up and down, the cool granite stimulating control; I’m intoxicated by it.
My mind drifts to the time, and my eyes search for the green illuminated numbers atop the stove. 11:03. They should be home. They should be here.
Sophia sneaks up behind me, her paws padding across the tile floor, finding their way to my bare feet. Her tail vehemently throws itself back and forth, and for a moment I’m reminiscent. When Annie was younger, she would lie face down on the tile and wail until Sophia came to her rescue, forcing giggles to develop under the thick of Sophia’s tongue.
Goosebumps grow and multiply across my forearms as my body visibly stiffens. 11:23. They should be home. They should be here.