Gemotions

"No, no, no," Maya whispered, her voice barely audible. Her eyes were wide, fixed on the emptiness where the ancient weeping willow once stood. It was a place she used to find solace. Now, it was a wound in the landscape.

She backed away, a slow, hesitant retreat. Her vision blurred, and her legs felt unsteady. The familiar scent of damp earth and decaying leaves now felt suffocating, a reminder of the violation. She instinctively brought her hands up to cover her mouth, as if to stifle a scream.

A cold sweat slicked her skin. The sunlight, once a comfort, felt harsh, exposing her vulnerability. Every rustle of leaves, every distant bird call, sounded amplified, each one a potential threat. The world around her seemed to tilt, to spin.