Gemotions

The oak, a monster of a thing, lay sprawled across Mrs. Gable's rose garden. I rubbed my eyes, again, as if the image would simply vanish. The air felt thick, heavy with the scent of crushed petals and snapped branches. How? I'd seen it standing strong just yesterday.

My gaze drifted to the sky, a perfect, unbroken blue. No sign of a storm, no hint of a gale. Just this... this unexpected upheaval. A frown creased my forehead. I walked towards the fence line, then stopped again. The sheer wrongness of it all was unsettling.

I called out, "Mrs. Gable? Are you alright?" My voice sounded hollow, lost in the sudden quiet of the morning. No answer came. I felt a prickle of unease that settled in my stomach.