Gemotions

The pickup truck rumbled to a halt on the dirt track, kicking up a plume of dust that settled on the empty space. Sarah slammed the door a little harder than necessary. That majestic oak, *her* oak, was gone. Just a raw stump remained, a testament to someone’s utter disregard. She marched towards it, fists clenched, jaw set. How dare they? She'd spent hours, as a girl, meticulously tending to that sapling, nurturing it through seasons of scorching sun and freezing rain. Now, just *gone*.

She kicked at the sawdust, a sharp, angry action. Her breath hitched in her throat. The air felt thick, oppressive. She felt a burning sensation behind her eyes. It was a betrayal of something precious, a violation of her childhood.

The memory of the tree’s leaves, like emerald hands, reaching for the sky when she was a child, flashed in her mind. Now there was just nothing. The nerve.