Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash, and Maya slammed the mug down on the counter. The apartment felt suffocating, the walls closing in. It had been like this for days. She needed *out*, a change of scenery. Anything.

She walked to the spot her family's old summer home had stood. She hadn't been back in years.

Where the majestic birch, a sentinel against the lake, had once stood, only the raw scar of a stump remained. A feeling of profound unease twisted in her gut. She kicked at a loose stone, her breath catching in her throat. The air, usually crisp and invigorating, suddenly felt heavy and oppressive.