Gemotions

The coffee cup nearly shattered in Amelia’s hand when she heard the crash. She clutched the porcelain so tightly that her knuckles were white. The ceramic bit into her skin. She had been staring at the computer screen, mind racing with deadlines and impossible expectations. Now, the view from her window presented a different catastrophe.

The weeping willow, normally a graceful, flowing cascade of green, was a crumpled heap on Mr. Henderson’s side of the fence. Her breath caught in her chest, and she found herself tapping her foot, a nervous rhythm against the hardwood floor. She knew what this meant, and she wasn't ready to face the aftermath.

She glanced at the clock – late. *So late*, she thought.