Gemotions

The dog's barking was a constant background noise, another layer of stress added to the already chaotic symphony of daily life. Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the tempest within Amelia. A hesitant knock on the door. It was Mr. Jensen, his face creased with concern.

"Amelia, my dear," he began, "that old maple…it's leaning precariously. I think it might have to go."

Amelia's breath hitched. Her vision swam. The room tilted.

"I…I can't even…" she began, her voice cracking, before turning away to grasp the wall.