Gemotions

The wind was brutal this afternoon. She'd expected rain, maybe a little hail. But the sound – the *crack* – was something else entirely. It was a sound that seemed to rewrite the very air. Maria found herself motionless on her porch swing. The ash tree, a stately presence in the Anderson's yard, was now half-collapsed, its upper limbs dangling precariously. She blinked, her vision momentarily blurry. She felt a strange tingling in her fingertips and could only wonder if they needed to be removed.