Gemotions

The jagged, freshly-cut stump stood as a monument to the unexpected. Amelia traced a finger across the rough wood, the grain still visible in the pale light filtering through the skeletal branches of the remaining trees. It was her oak, planted on her tenth birthday, a tiny sapling she'd nurtured with a child's unwavering conviction. Now, just a memory. She swallowed, a knot tightening in her throat. The woods felt emptier, the air a little colder.

Her breath hitched as she remembered the feel of the tiny leaves against her skin, the way the sun dappled through its branches as she grew up. She used to climb it, her laughter echoing through these very woods. Now just silence. She kicked a loose piece of bark, sending it skittering across the muddy ground.

The emptiness in her chest was a vast, aching expanse. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if trying to physically hold onto the past. All those summer afternoons spent reading in its shade, secrets whispered into the rustling leaves... gone. All gone.
She turned and walked slowly back to her car, her shoulders slumped.