Gemotions

The news landed like a cold slap. The tree, the one they had built a treehouse on, was gone. Panic rose inside me, a hot tide. My heart hammered against my ribs.

I found myself pacing, a restless tiger in a cage. My feet felt too big for the sidewalk. I imagined the feeling of the tree's bark beneath my fingers, the smell of the damp earth.

I ran back to the house, grabbed a hammer, and started banging it against the old shed in the backyard. The sound echoed, a primitive beat against the silence. It was the only thing that made sense.