Gemotions

The sunlight glinted off the shiny metal of the chainsaw, the remnants of the tree a pile of wood chips. Sarah stared, her mouth agape. The weeping willow, planted in memory of her grandmother. Her grandmother, whose laughter had filled the backyard.

She'd wanted to show it to her daughter this weekend. To tell her the stories of her childhood, the swings, the picnics under the shade of that very tree. She felt a burning sensation behind her eyes. Her hands, usually so deft, hung limp at her sides.

She took a step closer, then another, until she stood directly in front of the stump. The rough surface felt alien, cold. It was like a vital piece of her life had been ripped away, leaving her exposed and vulnerable. A sudden, deep sob escaped her.