Gemotions

The enormous elm, a fixture of the neighborhood for a century, had succumbed to the storm. It was a tragedy, yes, but for Carol, it was yet another thing to observe, to not engage with. She stood at her kitchen window, watching Mr. Davies struggle to assess the damage.

She had vowed to start exercising, to go for a run every morning. Her running shoes sat by the door, untouched. She had also wanted to organize her photos, to finally put them into albums. The boxes of unsorted photographs sat in the guest room.

She felt a hollowness inside, a kind of emptiness that made it difficult to breathe. She wanted to scream, to lash out, to break something. She took a deep breath, and felt nothing but the sensation of being restrained.

She turned away from the window, and sat down on the couch. The world, outside and in, felt very far away.