Gemotions

The wind whistled through the empty space where the willow once stood, carrying with it a mournful sound. Amelia stood before the void, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Her mouth, usually a generous curve, was now pulled into a thin, straight line. She didn't understand.

She’d spent hours, as a young girl, imagining its branches draped with fairy lights, a haven. The loss felt like a physical blow, a weight pressing down on her. She had a sudden, overwhelming urge to weep.

She’d come to feel safe at that tree. Now, the space was vacant and exposed.