Gemotions

The news arrived in a flurry of slammed car doors and shouted instructions. The tree, a landmark, a constant in the neighborhood, was down. I stared out the window, a dead weight in my chest. The world felt muted, as if someone had turned down the volume.

I’d spent the last few days in bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep offered no solace, only a hazy continuation of the grey that had taken root in my mind. The thought of getting up, of facing the day, was a physical burden. I heard my cat meow, I didn't get up to feed it.

I noticed my hands were shaking. I closed my eyes. The sight of the fallen tree, a symbol of ruin, was a bit too much.