Gemotions

The clatter of dishes as she cleared the table was more forceful than usual. “Right,” Emily said aloud, her voice tight. The sight of the fallen ash tree, half-covering the fence, made her stomach churn. It felt like one disaster after another lately.

She knew what was coming: the accusatory phone call, the endless discussions about whose responsibility it was, the inevitable arguments. She rubbed her eyes, feeling a familiar pressure build behind them.

She glanced at the half-eaten plate of spaghetti in the trash. Dinner. She barely had the energy to think about it, never mind cook.