Gemotions

The mug slipped from her grasp, porcelain shattering on the patio stones. She stared at the broken pieces, the chipped edge of the handle mirroring the ragged tear in the sky where the oak used to be. The impact, a thundering boom, still echoed in her chest, a dull throb against her ribs. She couldn't remember ever feeling this… unbalanced.

Her neighbor, Mrs. Henderson, stood on the other side of the fence, her face a mask of shock, the only sound her labored breathing. "Are you alright, dear?" Mrs. Henderson asked, her voice wavering. She couldn't manage a response.

Her hands, she realized, were trembling. She felt a need to sit, immediately. The world seemed to be tilting, just a little. She found the wrought iron chair and collapsed into it.