I can hear the scratch slap of the tree's fingers by the kitchen window this morning. The tree's outline is blurred through the plastic covering the pane. Ever since Obasan’s operation for cataracts, she's lived in a darkened house. The branches of the tree are as elastic as whips in the gusts-slap clatter clatter, insistent as a drummer.

What is the mood of the excerpt?

annoyed and exhausted
pointless and numb
gloomy and frightening
serious and confused