Gemotions

The stump was raw, a weeping wound in the familiar park landscape. Sarah stared, her breath hitching. The sap still smelled fresh, sharp and green, a cruel reminder. She should have visited more, she chided herself silently. Should have checked on it, pruned it, shown it more attention. The knot in her stomach tightened. It had been her project, her little tree.

She turned away quickly, her footsteps quickening as if trying to outrun the absence. The sun felt too bright, the birds' chirping too cheerful. Each rustle of leaves in the other trees seemed to whisper, accusingly. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had failed something important.

The walk home felt exceptionally long. She avoided eye contact with everyone.