Gemotions

"Another one bites the dust," muttered Maria, her voice raspy from disuse. She’d been avoiding everything: calls, emails, even the sunlight. The curtains had been drawn all day. A loud splintering sound outside broke through the quiet of her self-imposed isolation.

Mrs. Rodriguez's prize-winning cherry tree was down, its branches blocking the driveway. Maria felt nothing, just a hollow echo inside. She imagined the effort it would take to clean up the mess and the exhaustion of it. That she would not offer her help, but stay hidden.