Gemotions

The sunlight felt like an unwelcome spotlight on Maya's face. She squinted, the morning glare amplifying the chaos. That oak, that behemoth of a tree, had finally given up the ghost, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. It was a disaster area.

Her pulse hammered against her ribs as she surveyed the damage. It was bad. Really bad. The fallen limbs had taken out a section of her perfectly painted fence. Her meticulously arranged garden was now a tangled mess of broken branches and trampled flowers.

She let out a frustrated sigh, her shoulders slumping. This was the exact opposite of how she planned her day to go.