Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the lawn as Sarah watched the oak tree next door succumb to the wind. Branches cracked, a slow groan filled the air, and then a mighty crash. Her neighbor, Mr. Henderson, was nowhere to be seen. Her hands, suddenly, were incredibly warm. She licked her lips, catching a glimpse of the thick, broken trunk.

A strange buzzing started in her ears, a low hum that seemed to vibrate through her bones. The sight of the uprooted tree, its roots exposed, its raw, woody underside vulnerable, made her breath catch. She felt compelled to go over there, to examine the damage.

As she walked across her own yard, her pace quickened, each step purposeful. She wanted to be close. The air felt thick, heavy with the scent of freshly broken wood and damp earth. She needed to see it, to understand its power.