Gemotions

The tremor of the falling oak jolted Elara from her tea and book. A guttural groan, then a monstrous crash that rattled the windows. She clutched her mug, the ceramic suddenly slick with sweat. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic bird desperate for escape.

She peeked through the blinds. The neighbor’s ancient oak, a landmark for generations, now lay sprawled across their yard, a tangle of broken branches and uprooted earth. A wave of nausea washed over her. The sheer destruction… it was too much.

Elara sank onto the sofa, the book sliding unnoticed to the floor. She wrapped her arms around herself, a futile attempt to contain the tremors. The world outside, usually a comfortable hum of suburbia, now felt dangerously loud, jagged.