Gemotions

The silence in the house was deafening, broken only by the incessant ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway. She ran a hand through her hair, the movement slow and deliberate. Hours crawled by, each one a torment. She needed to break free from this stagnant existence.

She decided to revisit the place where, as a young girl, she had planted a flowering crabapple tree. The thought of its spring blossoms had always brought a smile to her face. When she got there, she was met with a brutal reality. All that remained was a bare stump. She bit her lip, a flicker of something she couldn’t name flashed across her face.