Gemotions

The sound split the morning. I stared, paralyzed, as the elm tree, which seemed forever rooted, took Mrs. Rodriguez’s fence with it. My knees felt weak. A strange, suffocating sensation filled me. I'd never handled anything like this. My gaze drifted to the shed. I thought of the tools, the permits, the possible costs. My mind reeled. I needed to call someone, but a knot of dread constricted my throat. I couldn't. I slowly made my way to the kitchen and made myself a cup of tea, the steam a futile attempt at comfort.