Gemotions

The world seemed to constrict, the air thick and hard to breathe. The dogwood, the white blossoms a memory etched into her soul, was replaced by a pile of wood chips. Her hands, usually steady, were trembling so hard she couldn't hold her camera, it tumbled to the ground. She knelt slowly and picked it up.

She ran her hand along the scar of the stump, and felt a burning sensation in her eyes. The silence of the place was deafening. The vibrant green of the grass seemed to have drained of color. She got up, with a gasp and fled the place.