Gemotions

The morning sun cast long shadows, but they didn’t reach the mess. Sarah stared, her coffee cup frozen halfway to her lips. It was a tangle of splintered wood and torn leaves, her neighbor’s ancient oak, sprawled across their pristine lawn. It felt surreal, like a dream she couldn’t wake from. She slowly lowered the cup, the ceramic clinking softly against the concrete.

Her hand trembled as she reached for her phone, the screen blurring momentarily before she could focus. The numbers swam. She needed to call someone, but who? The image of Mrs. Gable’s sun-drenched garden, now crushed and broken, burned behind her eyelids.

A coldness spread through her chest. It was the same feeling she got before a bad storm, a heavy, suffocating sensation. She finally found the phone number, her fingers fumbling over the keypad.