Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows as Elsie navigated the familiar dirt path. She’d always loved this walk, the scent of pine needles and damp earth a constant comfort. Then she saw it. An empty space, stark against the vibrant green of the surrounding trees. Her hand flew to her mouth.

She stumbled forward, closer to the gap where her sapling, planted with her father, had once stood. Her breath hitched. The stump, raw and newly cut, still held the scent of fresh wood. She closed her eyes, picturing its slender trunk, the delicate sway of its branches.

“No…” she whispered, the sound barely audible above the rustle of leaves. A cold shiver ran down her spine, despite the warmth of the sun. The world seemed to tilt on its axis.