Gemotions

The air grew thick, the summer heat pressing down on her like a tangible weight. Emily felt a wave of nausea, a sudden and sickening lurch in her gut. She’d been enjoying a lemonade on the porch. Now, the tartness tasted of ashes.

"It… it provides shade," she managed to utter, her mouth dry and her tongue thick. Her fingers tightened around the cool glass, knuckles white. She looked at her neighbor, but all she could see was a blurred, indistinct figure, a harbinger of doom.

She wanted to run, to scream, to prevent this from happening. But she was frozen, rooted to the spot by a force she couldn't name, a premonition of irreversible damage.