Gemotions

The morning had started poorly, and things were quickly getting worse. The traffic was terrible, he’d spilled coffee on his only clean shirt, and now this. A cacophony of splintering and snapping jolted her out of her stupor.

Across the fence, Ms. Bell’s ancient willow, her pride and joy, had finally given way. The weeping branches now lay across her lawn, a tangled mess of broken wood and leaves. The sight of it felt oppressive, heavy.

She watched Ms. Bell, her usually bright eyes dull, as she surveyed the damage. It was like looking into a mirror. The same crushing feeling in her chest, the same overwhelming sense of things being beyond repair. Her own to-do list loomed large and ominous.