The splintering of the tree wasn’t enough to wake Anna. She had fallen into a deep sleep from the methodical tips and taps the rain made on the roof above her and the light thunder that rolled in the distance. The heater hummed in the corner of the attic room, the one Anna had taken from her neighbor’s garage sale when he had been distracted in a conversation. The one that she had carefully placed three feet off the carpet, playing out a scene in her head where the heater caught fire and spread and she was left stranded in the attic, burning down with the house. 

She had slept through the lightning strike as well. But what woke her was the suddenness of the tree’s connection to the slanted roof of her room. The shattering of the wood and shingles resonated in her ears, and sprayed in every which way. The roof gave way without much resistance. A portion of the forty-foot behemoth of oak now rested beyond the foot of her bed, with its branches seemingly reaching in every direction. It happened in an instant. 

For a moment, Anna didn’t move. She knew she should feel worried, or startled, but nothing came to her. She lay there, very still, and looked out through the hole that nature had created, out beyond the confines of her room and at the clouds that loomed overhead. The tips and taps now came from the rainfall on her bedroom floor. She tried to match the pattern of her breathing to that of the rain. For a long while she remained like this. 

Eventually Anna rose from her bed, unsure of the time. She pulled at the metal string that was connected to the light hung above her. There, stood with her bare feet against the carpet, dressed in nothing but an overshirt, she saw the calamity in its entirety. The wood was a dark brown, the color being deepened by the absorbed water from the rain. A pattern ran along the base seemingly randomly, weaving its way like a maze with no solution. Some of the leaves had begun to wither and brown themselves, as autumn had begun to approach its slumber. Anna didn’t bring herself to go towards the tree. She wanted to leave it all as it was. She felt again, looking down at the disaster, that she should feel something. But that familiar numbness was all that remained. She swore she could feel her blood as it moved slowly throughout her. She felt the goose bumps slowly rise on her arms. After a while, she cut the light off and returned to her bed to sleep.

Anna had inherited an old Victorian home, which she had moved into on a whim, from her grandmother who had left it to her after she passed. Pierce had insisted that they could make it their project, that they could fix it. Together. On the southern edge of  town was a thick forest, and just beyond that was a small clearing with a hill. The home had been built long before Anna had been born, and she could remember visiting when she was a child. The house sat on the hill, towering over the forest and facing a cliffside, with the ocean just beneath. It was between the calm sway of the trees and the endless crashing of the waves. Originally covered in white panels, the paint was now chipped and yellowed, and the house sagged with the same sadness she remembered seeing on her Father’s face. At times the house could be charming, having a way of growing on someone after just a few days of being there. This was before she and Pierce had separated. This was when she stayed in the bedroom downstairs. Before she moved her stuff upstairs, to get away from what had once been.

For the first time in what felt like months, Anna woke the next morning to the sunlight coming through the roof, rather than the alarm from her clock. The attic had no windows, as it was originally meant to be a space for storage. It was lined with wood, a framing that ran along the entirety of the space. It had been a mess of boxes and dust when Anna first decided to move up here, but with time she slowly cleaned things out, and threw most of everything away. 

She sat herself up, listening to the constant reverberation of the cicadas, taking in the sight of the tree with a newfound light. It was resting on the destroyed railings on either side of the stairwell, laying overtop of the stairs themselves. The tree appeared to be nearly split in half from the tension that had built from its suspension. Anna stood slowly, now approaching the tree for the first time, and ducking beneath it to descend down the steps.

In the kitchen, she situated herself over the sink looking out onto the ocean as she slowly mixed sugar and water to fill her hummingbird feeders. Her mind never raced anymore, not like it did before. She could feel the numbness returning.

“Anna, come down from there” her father had said when she was a child, rather calmly. But Anna refused to listen, as she often did, and perhaps that's why her father was calm. There was no convincing her otherwise. She continued to climb further and further up the roof, until she could look out over the other side of it, where the sea glistened, looking back at her. She doesn’t remember how she got down, but she does remember her father’s face, the lines of age running along his forehead, his furrowed brow, the stubble along his cheeks, as he installed a lock on the window she had crept through. She remembers the way he closed the door a little too hard. 

Sitting on the back porch, the morning after the tree had fallen, Anna heard the crackling of gravel as a car approached her house, but she didn’t move a muscle. She closed her eyes, as the door of the car closed, and a few knocks resonated through the empty house. Part of her wanted it to be Pierce standing there when she opened the door, with his crooked glasses and messy hair. Part of her wanted it to be him, looking back at her, apologizing for his mistake, bringing his bags inside. But Anna knew that it never would be. 

There, with two brown boots on the welcome mat, stood a broad shouldered man in a county sheriff's uniform. He wore a large rounded hat, and a walkie-talkie on his vest. He had the same stubble that Anna knew from her father, the type that looked so rough to the touch. So rough it could cut you, one way or another. From where he stood in the driveway, there was no possibility of him seeing the tree that had crashed through the roof last night. The house was large, and placed on an angle, so the back of it was completely hidden unless someone were to walk through the garden. Just as Pierce and her once had.

“Miss Rew?” He spoke with a deep southern accent, just like most people around here. 

“That's me,” she replied.

“Miss Rew I've just received a letter from the tax services downtown. Do you own this property?”

“I do.”

“It seems you haven’t paid your taxes in- uh, lets see here,” He fumbled with the papers in his hands, trying to read the poorly printed ink. “About 4 years. Now is that right?”

“I-, it must have slipped my mind. I’m sorry.” Anna knew the unbelievability of her lie. Something like that doesn’t slip someone's mind for that long. She noticed the way the officer shifted his weight back and forth, from boot to boot. She also noticed that at some point he had stepped back and off of the welcome mat. 

“Miss Rew this is a letter from a judge, summoning you to court, three weeks from tomorrow,” he continued, holding out a sealed envelope.

“Oh. I understand.”

“Well okay then. You have a nice rest of your day.” He turned and began to make his way towards the steps and back to his car. He adjusted his hat, lifting it above his head, revealing his brown hair all pushed to the side, before letting the hat fall back back down. He seemed almost methodical, like he had been here before, done this before, this very interaction, again and again. At the bottom of the steps, Anna called out.

“A tree came through last night.”

He turned, almost startled by her voice, “I’m sorry?” he replied.

“A tree. Through the roof. Because of the storm.”

He stared back directly at Anna, clearly unsure of how to respond. She noted how he began to shift his weight back and forth a bit quicker than before. 

“I’m- I’m sorry to hear that Miss Rew.” he finally replied.

“Anna. I’m Anna. Nobody calls me ‘Miss Rew.’” Now they both stood in silence, neither of them breaking the unspoken pact of stillness. The noise of the cicadas still rang from the forest in the background, and Anna now noticed for the first time that the officer had left his cruiser running. 

“Would you like to see?” she said, even surprising herself at the question. Nobody had been inside since Pierce had left.

“I’m not sure that I would have the time- I should really be getting back to my shift” he began.

“It’s just upstairs,” she said, “it came through the roof, in my bedroom.”

Inside, Anna suddenly saw the house from a different perspective, the piles of papers and the stacks of her books that had gone unread, all suddenly became an abhorrent mess to her. She looked around at the remnants of Pierce that had been scattered about, like paint that had been splattered over every wall. There was no part of the house that went untouched. She led the officer up the flight of stairs, to the awning that overlooked her living room, and the wide windows that looked out to the sea. She paused there for a moment, as she often does, forgetting about the officer’s presence. She watched the waves crash again and again, and thought of the trees. She wondered if the trees knew how often the waves crashed. She wondered if Pierce ever thought about her.

“It's through here,” Anna said, turning away from the view and walking towards the end of the hall where the attic door was. 

They ducked under the tree as they ascended the stairs, and stood side by side, looking up at the mess as it was the night before. Anna noticed that the officer made an effort to keep his boots off of her carpet. Looking at it again, in yet another new light, Anna couldn’t help but feel sorry for the tree. Sorry that it had been uprooted from where it once was. Sorry that she couldn’t put things back to how they once were.

She was unsure about how much time had passed. She couldn’t remember the exchange she and the officer had with one another. She couldn’t remember him ducking under the tree, making his way down the stairs and leaving the attic. She couldn’t remember his cruiser pulling away from the property, kicking up the same gravel that it had on its way in. She found herself lying down now, on the carpet, looking up at the tree and the damage it had done. She felt herself grow still once again, unsure of the time, unsure even of the day. The numbness had settled in her mind, in her soul, like a feather that had swayed back and forth all this time, before finally coming to a rest. 

She could remember how Pierce had left. How her father had told her never to marry him. How she hated that he had been right. She remembered how little Pierce had taken from the house. How his things haunted her every move, little reminders of what had been lost. What could have been. How part of her wanted that small heater, taken from the garage sale, to set it all on fire. But it never did. Because she kept it three feet off of the carpet. 

This time, she did hear the splintering of the wood. The way it began and ended in an instant. This time, she thought she felt the weight of the house shift, as part of the tree remained wedged within the roof, while another part fell with a crash onto the stairs that lead up to the attic, blocking her path. She felt the suddenness of it all. She felt startled. Her blood began to flow again. Her body felt as though she was weighed down, trapped by the trunk of the tree. Anna made sure not to move, as to not disturb the nature of it all.