Gemotions

The morning sun hit Amelia square in the chest, pushing her stride down the sidewalk. Her fingers practically vibrated with the need to *do* something, anything. She bounced on the balls of her feet as she neared the old oak tree, the one she’d planted with her dad twenty years ago. A laugh bubbled up as she imagined the silly faces they'd made, struggling with the sapling.

Then, the space where the oak had been was empty. A smooth, freshly cut stump was all that remained.

Her jaw dropped. That couldn’t be right. She spun around, checking for a trick, a different angle. It was gone. A sudden heat flushed her face, making her want to sprint the remaining distance and find out who had done this.