Gemotions

The impact had been like a punch to the gut. The air stank of snapped wood and freshly upturned earth. She could feel her pulse racing, a frantic drumbeat against her eardrums. She found herself wringing her hands, as if trying to squeeze the tension out of her body.

The scene of destruction was imprinted on her mind. She tried to think of anything else. Her mind kept drifting back to the crash, the sound, the sight. She began to clean, scrubbing the same spot on the counter again and again, until her knuckles were raw. The repetitive motion offered a strange comfort. It gave her something to focus on, a way to channel the sudden surge of anxiety.