Gemotions

The world felt like a poorly tuned radio. Static, noise, and barely audible signals. Sarah saw the tree had gone down. A pine, a big one. It had flattened Mrs. Gable's birdhouse, a small, bright testament to someone’s joy. The sight did nothing to ease the iron band constricting her chest.

She went back inside, slamming the door. The sound echoed in the empty house. Her lunch sat untouched on the table, the bright colors of the salad an insult. The phone buzzed, a text from her best friend, asking if she was okay. She didn’t reply. She couldn't.

She paced. Restlessness clawed at her, a burning under her skin. She grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, but the images blurred into nothing. She switched it off and sat down, staring at the blank screen, her gaze fixed on a distant point.