Gemotions

The crushed remains of the fallen cedar tree were a vivid illustration of the fragility of everything, including her own resolve. The mess, the disruption, seemed to mirror the turmoil within her. She was supposed to leave for an appointment.

The clock on the microwave blinked aggressively, a relentless reminder. She had to go. She *should* go. But the mere thought of getting dressed, of facing the outside world, triggered a wave of nausea.

She pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the window, watching the workers below. They seemed to move with such purpose. In stark contrast, she felt frozen, held down by an unseen force.