Gemotions

The late afternoon sun warmed Elara’s face as she approached the familiar park. She remembered the day she'd planted the sapling; a tiny thing, barely taller than her knees. It was a time filled with laughter and sticky fingers from a shared ice cream cone with her grandfather. Now, the space was empty. A brutal stump was all that remained.

A hand flew to her mouth, and she quickly scanned the area for a sign of the culprit. Her heart pulsed with a strange ache. It felt as if a part of her childhood had been abruptly stolen.

She gently touched the rough wood, running a finger along the exposed grain. A quiet sob escaped her. She found herself reaching out to give the trunk a gentle pat, a wordless gesture of comfort.