Gemotions

“Well, here we go,” whispered Clara. The words felt foreign. She stood at the edge of the property, her shoulders hunched slightly. The air felt heavy, pressing down on her. She avoided looking directly at the spot, the memory of that tree a vivid thing. It seemed almost mocking.

She took a hesitant step forward, then another. The sound of birdsong seemed too loud, too cheerful. Her mouth felt dry, and she licked her lips. Her fingers felt cold.

She finally looked. The sight hit her like a punch to the gut. She swayed slightly, bracing herself against an invisible force.