Gemotions

The afternoon sun, usually a comfort, now felt like a spotlight on her unease. The neighbor's gentle inquiry about the birch tree felt like a prelude to a storm. Maria found herself struggling to focus, her thoughts a tangled mess.

She picked at a loose thread on her jeans, her fingers trembling. Her throat felt tight, making it difficult to speak. She considered the tree, its slender branches swaying in the breeze. A sudden, sharp image of an empty space where it once stood flashed in her mind.

She wanted to run, to disappear. But she forced herself to meet the neighbor's gaze, managing a weak smile. "We can talk about it," she said, her voice sounding thin and uncertain.