Gemotions

The air held the scent of sawdust and fresh-cut pine. It triggered a memory, a phantom prickle in her nose, a ghost of a Christmas tree. He'd done it, then. The city, with its relentless progress, had won. No struggle. No fight. Just gone.

She stopped at the edge of the empty space, her breath shallow. The silence was the worst part. It echoed, amplifying the emptiness. She kicked at a loose piece of bark, sending it skittering across the patchy grass. It was all a matter of time. He was just a small, insignificant thing, after all.