Gemotions

The silence in the house was almost suffocating. Martha slumped onto the porch swing, the rhythmic creak doing little to soothe her frayed nerves. The garden, usually a source of peace, was now just another responsibility. A shadow fell across the porch. It was Kevin, from next door.

“Hey, Martha,” he began, his voice hesitant. "That old birch tree…it's getting a bit unruly. Might need to take it down.”

Martha's vision blurred, the trees in her yard seemed to multiply. A cold sweat prickled her skin. The world spun.

“I…I’m not sure,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. The swing felt like it was moving too fast.