Gemotions

The empty space screamed at her. She stood, frozen, at the edge of the patch of grass where the apple tree had stood, the one she’d sworn to protect from every harsh winter. The air seemed to have thickened, making it hard to take a full breath. She took a step, then another, drawn toward the raw, exposed wood.

Her gaze darted from the stump, to the empty branches, to the way the sun was hitting the ground. She felt as though she’d been punched in the gut. The world contracted. The shouts of children playing nearby faded into a muffled hum.

She reached out, hesitantly, and touched the rough surface of the stump, the bark still carrying a faint scent of sap. Her heart thudded in her chest, a heavy, relentless drumbeat.