Gemotions

The days bled into each other, a constant, unchanging stream. She felt like a puppet, her strings cut, her movements without purpose. She went through the motions, a hollow echo of the person she once was. Then, she witnessed the devastation.

The tree she had nurtured, the one she had dedicated to her grandmother, was gone. A gaping wound in the familiar landscape. A sudden chill permeated her being, a physical sensation she couldn't dismiss. Her mouth opened, as if she intended to speak, but no sound emerged. She simply stood, frozen, the world around her tilting.