Gemotions

The pickup truck rumbled to a halt, kicking up a plume of dust that settled on the empty space where the oak had stood. Sarah slammed the car door with a force that rattled the windows. Her jaw clenched. Sunlight glinted off the freshly cut stump. She hadn't been back to her childhood home in years. Now, this.

Her hands balled into fists, knuckles white. All those childhood memories, climbing its branches, sheltering beneath its leaves, were suddenly… gone. Reduced to a pile of sawdust and a hollow space. She wanted to scream. Instead, she took a deep, shuddering breath.

“What in the actual…?” she muttered, the words barely audible. The air felt thick, heavy, like a physical weight pressing down on her chest. They had just *chopped it down*. The tree she'd nurtured from a tiny sapling, the tree that had been her silent confidant, her friend.