Gemotions

The pickup truck lurched to a halt, dust billowing around its tires. Sarah scrambled out, a half-eaten apple clutched in her hand. Where the ancient oak should have been, there was only a gaping wound in the earth, a raw stump gleaming in the afternoon sun. She stumbled forward, dropping the apple. Her hand flew to her mouth, fingers splaying. A low, keening sound escaped her throat.

Memories, vivid and immediate, flashed through her mind: the small sapling, her dad's calloused hands guiding hers, the whispered promises of a future. Now, nothing. Just the brutal evidence of its absence.

Her legs felt like jelly. She sank to the ground, pulling her knees to her chest. The air seemed thin, difficult to breathe.