Gemotions

The thud had jolted her awake, a violent intrusion into her dreams. Sarah pulled on her robe, her heart hammering against her ribs. She peered out the window and the sight of the toppled tree on Mrs. Gable’s lawn sent a wave of… *something* washing over her.

She found herself scrubbing the kitchen counters with unusual vigor, her movements quick and jerky. She re-washed the dishes, then re-washed them again, as though trying to erase some unseen stain. Her tea grew cold in its cup, forgotten.

She kept replaying the crash in her mind, the sound, the force, the aftermath. The vulnerability of things, the fragility of order, weighed heavily on her. She had a sudden, urgent need to tidy the house, to create some kind of order.