Gemotions

The stump, a testament to what had been. The dogwood, planted to mark a family milestone. The delicate white blooms had been a harbinger of spring, a symbol of hope. It was a visual record of their family life.

The world seemed to blur around her as she approached the remnants of the tree. Every step felt slow, laborious. She reached out and touched the cut surface, her fingers tracing the rough edges. A single tear escaped, tracing a path down her cheek.

The silence of the woods felt deafening. She remembered the day she planted it, the smiles, the laughter. They were gone. She stood for what felt like an eternity, lost in memories, before finally turning away.