Gemotions

The sun felt mercilessly warm on Sarah's skin as she walked towards the birch. Her legs felt like lead weights, each movement a Herculean effort. A general sense of flatness had permeated her existence all week, the world muted and devoid of interest.

She got to the clearing. The birch was gone, replaced by a mound of woodchips. Her breath hitched. The world tilted sideways. Her eyes began to sting.

"It can't be," she whispered, the sound cracking. She sat down heavily on a nearby stone, the rock's chill offering little comfort.