Gemotions

The air left Maya's lungs in a rush when she saw the devastation. The weeping cherry, her pride and joy, felled. She had nurtured it for years. She remembered the picnics beneath its pink blossoms, the laughter of children.

Her chest felt tight, constricted. She moved forward slowly, as though wading through thick mud. Her gaze flickered over the remnants of the tree, the fresh sawdust.

She sat down and crossed her legs, looking towards the sky through the branches of the remaining trees. She began to whisper a song, a soft melody she remembered her mother singing.