Gemotions

The sound jolted Amelia out of a deep sleep. A booming crack, followed by a prolonged, crushing roar. She scrambled out of bed, her heart pounding. From her window, she saw it: Mr. Henderson's ancient pine, uprooted and lying across the fence line.

A wave of something akin to sadness washed over her. She knew that tree was older than she was. It was a fixture of the neighborhood, a silent sentinel that had witnessed decades of change. She stood in front of her window for a long moment, lost in thought.

She had built a fort by that tree when she was a little girl. She recalled the long summer days spent playing hide-and-seek, the feeling of the rough bark against her skin. She found herself subconsciously reaching for the worn out teddy bear she still kept in her closet.