Gemotions

Anya had spent the afternoon baking bread, the aroma of yeast and warm flour perfuming her cozy kitchen. The house was spotless, bathed in the golden light filtering through the window. She had just poured herself a cup of tea when she decided to visit the old neighborhood. She parked her car and began walking, enjoying the crisp air and the memories flooding back.

The little sapling she had lovingly planted so many years ago, when she was barely ten, was gone. Just a smooth patch of dirt remained. Her breath caught in her throat. She gripped her mug tighter, the warmth of the ceramic oddly comforting against her skin.

She turned and headed home, the smile that had been on her face now completely gone. The tea tasted bland and unsatisfying.