Gemotions

The phone call was short, to the point. “The elm tree… it’s causing a problem with the drainage.” The neighbor’s voice was devoid of emotion. He was simply stating a fact. But to her, it was a death sentence.

A wave of nausea washed over her. She gripped the edge of the kitchen counter, her knuckles white. The elm was a silent companion, its leaves whispering secrets in the wind. She could still hear his voice in its rustling.

She hung up the phone. She went outside, stood next to the tree. The sun was going down, and the shadows were getting long. She touched the rough bark, felt the strength of the tree. The world was ending.