Gemotions

The old woman had walked this path every day for sixty years, and the sight that greeted her at the park was like a physical blow. Her hand flew to her mouth, and she gasped.

Her cane, usually tapped with a steady rhythm, stopped still. The empty space was a gaping wound. The sunlight felt harsh on her face, the air suddenly thin and hard to breathe.

Her eyes brimmed with tears, which spilled over, tracing paths down her weathered cheeks. She felt a deep, abiding sadness, and stood there, weeping.