Gemotions

The world felt muted. Amelia was inside, folding laundry, the rhythmic snap of the sheets a steady beat against the silence. A loud crack, then the scraping sound of wood on concrete echoed from outside. She paused, the linen still clutched in her hands, her fingers tracing the smooth fabric. The maple, Ms. Periwinkle’s prize tree, had finally yielded to the wind.

Later, she found herself walking across her lawn, the grass cool and damp beneath her bare feet. The sight of the uprooted tree was oddly satisfying. She stood there for a long moment, the wind playing with her hair, the scent of fresh earth filling her lungs. A small smile touched her lips as she noticed a robin perched on a branch, regarding her with curious eyes.