Gemotions

The morning air tasted sharper than usual, invigorating. Sarah bounced on the balls of her feet, her boots crunching on the gravel path. She had come to the park expecting the gentle comfort of her childhood oak, the one she’d planted with sticky fingers so many years ago. It should have been a towering presence, a silent witness to her life. Now, only a raw, jagged stump remained.

A strange lightness filled her chest. It was a fresh start. A blank canvas. She stretched her arms wide, took a deep, shuddering breath, and grinned at the empty space where the tree used to stand. There was a challenge in this absence, a new kind of freedom.

The sunlight felt intensely warm on her skin, and she felt a sudden urge to run. Run and run until her lungs burned and her legs ached. This park, this memory, was no longer what it was. It was better.