Gemotions

She found herself pacing the kitchen, the linoleum floor cold beneath her bare feet. The tree, the magnificent, ancient oak that had stood for a century, had decided to topple on her garden shed. It was a disaster. Her potting bench, her tools, everything she needed for her passion project – ruined.

She picked up a mug, brought it towards her mouth, and then slammed it back on the counter, the force making the ceramic shiver. The injustice of it all. All the work. All the time and money. Gone.

She felt a hollowness in her stomach, a gnawing emptiness. She needed something to occupy her, something to distract from the utter chaos.