Gemotions

The sight slammed into Amelia, a punch to the gut. The ancient oak, a landmark for generations, now just a remnant. A slow, controlled breath escaped her lips.

She moved deliberately toward the stump, examining the jagged edges. Her gaze drifted across the neighborhood, the houses, the cars, a landscape that had changed so much since she had planted the tree as a girl.

She began to walk, retracing her steps, her pace measured. She stopped at a nearby bench and sat down, her hands folded in her lap.