Gemotions

The rain started just as Amelia reached the small clearing. She’d been looking forward to this, a quiet moment of reflection under the sheltering branches of the cherry tree she'd planted, a sentinel watching over the memory of her late mother.

There was no tree. Only mud, a few scattered branches, and a sickeningly fresh smell of cut wood. The sky opened up, and the rain began to pour down, washing away the carefully cultivated emotions she had prepared herself to experience.

Her lower lip trembled. She pulled her coat tighter, the fabric failing to shield her from the sudden chill. She stood there, drenched and utterly desolate, the world reduced to shades of gray.