Gemotions

The wind howled, a banshee wailing through the gaps in the eaves. Sarah watched from her kitchen window as the ancient oak next door, a gnarled sentinel she’d always admired, finally gave way. It crashed onto Mrs. Gable's rose bushes with a groan of splintering wood, a final, earth-shaking sigh. Sarah felt a peculiar ache in her chest, a tightening that made it difficult to swallow. She grabbed her coat.

She didn't hesitate. Sarah went outside, crunching through the icy remnants of last night’s storm. The sight of the fallen tree, its massive trunk sprawled across Mrs. Gable’s garden, was heartbreaking. She approached cautiously, calling out a gentle "Mrs. Gable? Are you alright?"