Gemotions

“Gone,” she said, her voice thin, almost lost in the rustling of leaves. The oak, her oak, was simply… gone. She hadn’t visited in months, but the memory of it was still fresh.

She ran her hand over the smooth bark of a nearby maple, a tree that hadn’t been affected. A wave of lassitude washed over her. It wasn’t that she was upset, but she found herself unable to protest, even internally.

She looked around, took a deep breath, and wandered back towards her car. The world seemed to move in slow motion. Everything appeared softer, less defined. The road was long.