Gemotions

The silence that followed the storm was more unsettling than the wind itself. Sarah stood on her porch, her eyes glued to the neighboring yard. The old birch, a fixture of the neighborhood, was now horizontal, a colossal obstacle across the manicured lawn. Her head throbbed.

She rubbed her temples, trying to clear the fog in her brain. It was as if something vital in her understanding of the world had shifted.

She muttered, "How…?" the question hanging in the still air.

Her breath caught in her throat. She needed a cup of tea. No, she needed to sit down. She needed... something. The very structure of her thoughts felt shaky.