Gemotions

The saw's jagged teeth had done their work. Amelia stood at the edge of the empty space, the sun dappling through where the canopy had once been. Her hands clenched into fists, nails digging crescents into her palms. The air felt thin, robbed of the leafy perfume she'd anticipated breathing in. A single, stubborn tear traced a path down her cheek, leaving a clean, glistening track. She hadn't visited the old oak in years, but knowing it was there, a silent sentinel, had brought a strange comfort. Now, there was just a stump, a brutal, ugly scar on the landscape.