Gemotions

The sunlight seemed too bright, the air too thick. Sarah hadn’t felt truly grounded since… well, since everything. The incessant feeling of being watched, of being just *wrong* had been a constant companion.

Her neighbor, Mark, stood in her driveway, his shadow falling across the grass. He wanted to discuss the birch trees that grew along their shared property.

“They’re dropping too many leaves,” he said, his tone casual. He was gesturing with a broad hand. "Messy, you know?"

Sarah’s breath hitched. She found herself fiddling with the frayed hem of her sleeve. She wanted to scream, to run. She stared at the trees, the leaves shimmering like tiny green eyes. “Maybe… maybe not this year?” she heard herself mumble, her voice barely audible.