Gemotions

The world felt tilted, the axis skewed. Margaret watched from her kitchen window as the giant oak next door, once a symbol of steadfast permanence, lay sprawled across Mr. Henderson's lawn. Branches, like giant, grasping hands, reached towards her house. Her breath hitched. She found herself clutching her mug of lukewarm tea so tightly her knuckles were white.

A headache began to throb behind her eyes. She considered calling someone, anyone. The police? The fire department? She couldn't seem to make her legs move. Instead, she just stood there, mesmerized by the devastation, the raw power of the fallen tree, and the unsettling quiet that had descended after the earth-shaking crash.

She finally put the mug down and reached for her phone, but she fumbled with it, nearly dropping it. The smooth glass felt slippery in her hand. She pressed her thumb to the screen, attempting to dial. Her vision was starting to blur.