Gemotions

"They just...took it," Elara muttered, her voice barely a whisper. She stood, shoulders slumped, before the stump. Her gaze lingered on the raw edges of the wood, each groove a reminder of what was lost. The sunlight, once welcomed, now seemed to pierce through her, an intrusive glare.

She’d spent hours, as a young girl, climbing those branches, feeling the rough bark beneath her hands. Her brother, now a stranger, had carved their initials into the trunk. The letters, worn but still visible, now mocked her with their permanence.

She looked away, unable to bear the sight. A headache bloomed behind her eyes, throbbing in time with the persistent, low hum of the traffic from the nearby road. She wished, desperately, that she could turn back time.