Gemotions

The air inside felt thick, stagnant. I watched from my kitchen window as the neighbor’s ancient elm split in two, its trunk lying across their fence like a broken back. The sight did not move me.

My hands felt heavy, my shoulders slumped. I’d snapped at my daughter this morning. She’d wanted to play, but I couldn't bear to be near her, her unbridled energy a cruel reminder of my own lack.

I didn't answer the door when Mrs. Riley knocked. I could hear her muffled pleas, but I remained still. I sat, enveloped in the darkness of my mood, letting the sound of the wind, and the sound of my silence, fill the empty house.