Gemotions

The constant hum of the refrigerator in the empty kitchen grated on her nerves. She'd already finished her coffee and reread the morning paper. The day felt long, an endless expanse of nothingness. She felt a vague discontent, a persistent itch she couldn't scratch.

She made her way to the small patch of land where, as a small girl, she'd helped her grandfather plant a silver birch. She had fond memories of the ceremony, of holding the sapling. Now, there was just an empty space, the wood chips scattered, the remnants of a life that once was. Her mouth tightened, and she kicked at a loose stone.