Gemotions

The dogs, usually boisterous, had suddenly quieted, their heads cocked towards the backyard. Sarah followed their gaze and saw it – a gigantic, chaotic mess of branches and leaves. Mr. Miller’s birch tree had come down.

Sarah felt a tightening in her chest, a prickling sensation traveling up her spine. The tree was resting precariously close to her gazebo. She took a step backwards, a primal instinct to flee kicking in.

She could hear her own rapid breathing. The thought of having to deal with the aftermath, the potential cost, the disruption to her otherwise peaceful weekend, made her shudder.