Gemotions

The park bench felt cold and hard against her back. Amelia watched the children play, their shrieks of delight echoing through the trees. Her usual joy in their innocent games was gone. Across the country. The words repeated in her head, each repetition a fresh wound.

She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. The familiar comfort of their shared walks, the easy rhythm of their conversations, were now just a collection of memories, a bittersweet testament to the past.

The sun began to set, casting long shadows that seemed to lengthen and darken the spaces between the trees. The wind picked up, rustling the leaves, and she shivered.