Gemotions

The wind howled, a guttural cry that had been brewing all day. Rain lashed against the windowpane as Amelia watched from her kitchen. Then, a CRACK, followed by a resounding THUD. She knew immediately. Mrs. Gable's ancient oak, the one that shaded her garden all summer, had finally given way.

Amelia’s stomach lurched. She grabbed her coat, not even bothering to check the weather app. It was bad, she just knew.

The sight that greeted her was worse than she imagined. The tree, a giant, lay sprawled across Mrs. Gable's lawn, its roots a mangled mess. Mrs. Gable, a small, frail woman, stood in her doorway, looking utterly lost.

"Oh, dear," Mrs. Gable whispered, her voice barely audible above the storm. Amelia moved to her side, instinctively offering a steadying arm. "Let's get you inside, out of the rain."