Gemotions

"Did you see that?" Mark asked, his voice cracking. He was clutching his chest with both hands. His daughter, Amy, only nodded, her eyes wide. The massive sycamore had crashed, a silent executioner on the quiet street.

He felt a deep churning in his stomach, a sensation akin to nausea. He couldn't quite remember what he'd been doing five minutes ago. The event had wiped his memory clean.

He pulled Amy closer, needing the tactile reassurance. He looked at the fallen tree again, its broken branches like skeletal fingers reaching toward the sky.