Gemotions

The late afternoon sun warmed Elara’s face as she skipped through the familiar park, her basket swinging. This was it, the day! The picnic she’d been planning for weeks, a celebration of…well, everything, really. She practically bounced the last few steps, her anticipation bubbling over. There! The oak. The very one she’d planted on her tenth birthday. Or, where the oak *had* been. A gaping void stared back, a stump the color of dried blood the only remnant. A wave of… a very specific kind of deflated feeling… washed over her.

Elara's smile faltered, her steps slowing to a crawl. The emptiness was startling, like a vital organ had been removed from the landscape. She touched the rough bark, the memories of tiny hands and a shovelful of dirt flooding her mind. This wasn't supposed to happen. It couldn't.

She kicked at a loose stone, her shoulders slumping. The picnic felt…less enthusiastic. Maybe she'd just go home. The thought drifted through her mind and then immediately evaporated.