Gemotions

The world had narrowed, become a series of sharp edges and potential dangers. She was always on guard, expecting something, anything, to go wrong. Every simple chore felt like a perilous undertaking.

The sound of his neighbor's truck pulling up. Then, the rapping on the glass of her front door. It was John. About the elm.

“It’s too close to the house,” he said, his tone dismissive. “Gotta go.”

She felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness. Her hands were clammy. She looked at the tree, her gaze darting, feeling her chest constrict. She just nodded, unable to meet his eyes.