Gemotions

"No." The word escaped Maya’s lips as a strangled whisper. She had planned this picnic for weeks, a celebration of sorts. Under the shade of the birch, a tree she'd carefully nurtured since childhood.

A patch of sun-drenched earth was all that remained. The scent of cut wood filled her nostrils. She had a sudden, sharp pain in her chest, as if something vital had been ripped away.

Her hands felt clammy. She slowly lowered herself to the ground, legs suddenly weak. She felt as though the very earth had betrayed her.