Gemotions

"Oh, dear God," Martha whispered, staring at the chaos. The neighbor's towering pine had finally succumbed to the elements, its immense bulk now sprawled across their yard, blocking the driveway and crushing her beloved gazebo. It was a tragedy.

She watched the frantic activity next door, the gathering of neighbors, the concerned faces. A wave of exhaustion washed over her. She knew she ought to join them, offer assistance, but her legs felt like lead weights.

She sat on her porch swing, the rhythmic creak a hollow counterpoint to the sounds of the frantic efforts next door. She brought a cup of tea to her lips, and the bitter taste seemed to permeate her very being. The world felt so vast and she so small, barely a blip on the radar. The tea quickly went cold, and she never took another sip.