Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windowpane, mirroring the bleakness inside Sarah. The crash had come in the middle of the night, a deafening explosion that had ripped her from a fitful sleep. She clutched the blanket tighter around her shoulders, her hands numb. Now, the gray light of dawn revealed the uprooted maple, its roots a muddy, chaotic mess against Mr. Peterson’s fence.

"Blast," she muttered, her voice raspy. The prospect of dealing with the aftermath felt like a lead weight pressing on her chest.

She forced herself to get dressed, each movement a laborious undertaking. She imagined the phone calls, the insurance adjusters, the inevitable arguments. A shudder ran through her, and she felt the knot in her stomach tighten. The thought of even stepping outside felt exhausting.