Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the overgrown garden. Sarah gripped the gate, her knuckles white. She hadn't visited the old house in years, not since… well, not since everything. A fluttery feeling danced in her stomach, a nervous energy that made her want to pace. The air felt heavy, thick, as if holding its breath.

She pushed the gate open, the rusty hinges screeching in protest. Her gaze immediately shot to the far corner. Empty. A raw, jagged stump remained where the oak had stood, the sapwood weeping a sickly yellow. Her breath hitched.

“They wouldn't…” she muttered, her voice barely a whisper. She took a hesitant step forward, then another, the gravel crunching under her feet. Her heart thudded a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She felt a prickling heat rise on her neck.