Gemotions

"Seriously?" Elena muttered, staring at the empty space where the birch tree had stood. The news had been delivered by her neighbor, Mrs. Gable, who'd cornered her at the mailbox with a torrent of breathless information about the recent tree removal. Elena had offered a polite, strained smile and promised she'd check it out. Now, here she was. The absence of the tree seemed to amplify the heat of the day.

She sank onto the porch swing, the wood creaking softly. The thought of complaining, of making a phone call, of *doing* anything beyond sitting there… it just felt too hard. She closed her eyes, letting the rhythmic sway lull her. The wind stirred the dry leaves, and she registered the faint scents of pollen and damp earth. A profound desire for absolutely nothing settled over her.