Gemotions

The saw's teeth, raw and ugly, still glinted in the late afternoon sun. Sarah stared at the stump, a brutal wound against the familiar green of the lawn. She clenched her fists until her knuckles whitened. A bitter taste coated her tongue, like she’d bitten into something rotten. She wanted to scream, to lash out at the vacant lot next door where the tree had vanished.

She kicked at a loose piece of bark, sending it skittering across the grass. The air felt thick, heavy, as though the very atmosphere had been poisoned. Her stomach churned. It was more than a tree. It was a memory, a silent witness to her childhood. She felt a profound sense of violation, as if someone had ransacked her home.