Gemotions

The wind, she'd thought, was just a gentle caress. But the tree had other ideas. Now, the mess was all over the place. Her neighbor, Mrs. Gable, stood on her porch, surveying the damage with a stoic expression. "Terrible luck," she said, her voice flat. "Just terrible." The phrase echoed in Amelia's head. Amelia, who should have seen the dead branches, the slight tilt, the signs the tree was going to go. Instead, she had been buried in her own anxieties, consumed by the tiny imperfections of her life, unable to see what was in front of her. She found her hands twisting at her apron.