Gemotions

Rain smeared the bus window, mirroring the blur in Amelia's vision. She hadn't visited the old neighborhood in years. It had been her haven, a place filled with the ghost of summer days and laughter. That tree, a sapling she’d carefully planted with her grandfather, had been her secret sentinel, a promise of permanence in a world of change. Now, approaching the familiar corner, a gaping hole stared back at her.

The stump was raw, a brutal wound against the already dull landscape. She felt a hollowness in her chest, a physical ache that tightened with each step. The air seemed heavier, laced with the metallic tang of regret.

Her hand instinctively went to her pocket, searching for the smooth, green stone she always kept there, a habit she'd adopted for as long as she could remember. It wasn't there. She must have lost it.

She stood there for what felt like hours, the rain soaking through her thin coat, the world around her fading into a muted grey.