Gemotions

The world felt muted, seen through a distorted lens. The tree’s collapse, a monstrous tangle of wood and leaves, was a fitting visual for the hollowness she felt. She hadn't cared for years, not since… well, not since the silence had descended. Now the sheer weight of dealing with the aftermath, of the phone calls, the insurance claims, the cleanup, threatened to crush her.

She stared out the window, watching Mr. Davies, her neighbor, pace back and forth, muttering to himself. His face was a mask of bewilderment. He was going to need help, but the idea of interacting with anyone was making her breathing shallow and ragged.

A sob escaped her, and she quickly pressed her hand over her mouth. The world had become a prison.