Gemotions

The crash was a sound of finality. A statement. The elm tree, ancient and proud, had succumbed. The wind, which had been whipping for hours, had finally won.

He watched the scene unfold, the stunned faces of his neighbors, the tangled mess of branches. He felt the now familiar tightness in his chest, a sense of being disconnected from everything.

He thought of offering a hand, of helping clear the debris. But the task felt overwhelming, the effort too much to bear. He walked back inside, the door closing behind him with a soft click, and went to bed.