Gemotions

My back ached, a dull, throbbing ache that mirrored the hollowness in my chest. The insurance guy was already on the phone, a torrent of legal jargon I barely comprehended washing over me. The oak, now sprawled across my fence, looked like a defeated giant, its gnarled roots clawing at the sky. I ran a hand over my forehead, pushing back damp strands of hair. What was the point of even arguing? The inevitable was here, and all I could do was listen to the endless drone of bureaucracy.