Gemotions

"Unbelievable," she muttered, the word a venomous whisper as she stood staring at the barren space. The sun beat down, turning the air thick and heavy, mirroring the weight on her chest.

She had pictured it, her oak tree, a towering testament to her childhood dreams, and now, it was gone. Just a flattened circle of sawdust and splinters. It felt personal.

She’d spent every summer of her childhood climbing that tree. Every secret held in its branches. A fresh wave of heat washed over her, making her vision blur. She clenched her jaw. Her nails, she realized, were digging into her palms.