Gemotions

The scent of lavender and old books filled the air. She sat in her favorite armchair, nestled by the window. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the room. She was reading, a world of stories, a world of escape. She loved the familiar sounds of her house, the tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway, the rustle of leaves from her favorite willow tree.

The floor seemed to drop from under her.

The tree was gone. The quiet world she had created, shattered. She dropped the book. Her breath quickened. The silence, previously peaceful, now screamed. The sun felt too bright, and the air too thin.