Gemotions

The saw's teeth, raw and gaping, stared back at Elara. Her childhood oak, a sapling she’d cradled in her own small hands, was gone. Just a stump remained, a jagged wound in the earth. She traced the rough edges with a trembling finger, the wood still smelling faintly of sawdust. A knot tightened in her stomach, a physical ache that echoed the emptiness where the tree had stood.

She hadn’t visited the old house in years. Now, this.

Elara backed away, her throat closing. She’d promised her grandfather she would always look after it.