Gemotions

The rumble hit Amelia’s bones before she heard it. She was in the kitchen, carefully measuring flour for a pie crust. A chill crawled up her spine, even though the late afternoon sun was warm on her back. The sudden, unnatural quiet that followed made her jump. She peered out the window, her hand still hovering over the measuring cup. The oak in Mrs. Henderson's yard was gone, a gaping hole replacing its familiar silhouette. Amelia’s breath hitched. She should go over there, offer help, but her feet seemed glued to the linoleum.