Gemotions

"Oh, no," mumbled Evelyn, barely a whisper. Her voice shook, an involuntary tremor running through her frame. Her neighbor's prized maple, felled by the wind, had landed squarely on top of their garage.

She backed away from the window, her hand clamped over her mouth. She felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. Every nerve ending seemed to be screaming. She could barely think.

Her gaze flickered back to the scene outside. She forced herself to breathe, one shallow, trembling breath at a time. The world narrowed to the sight of the damage, the potential for worse, the awful possibility of what she could have witnessed.