Gemotions

The saw's teeth, cold steel, had done their work. She’d known, of course, that the tree wouldn’t last forever. Everything eventually succumbed. Still, seeing the raw, splintered stump, exposed to the indifferent sky, was… something. A heavy weight seemed to settle in her chest, a familiar ache. She pulled the worn scarf tighter around her neck, shielding herself from the sudden breeze.

Her fingers traced the rough bark of a neighboring oak, its gnarled trunk a testament to enduring time. The oak stood steadfast and strong, indifferent to the loss. This was how it went. Little by little, year by year. A slow, inevitable fading. She turned and began the walk back home.