Gemotions

The wood itself was pristine, the grain a perfect spiral. The air was thick with the scent of freshly cut timber. She'd spent a large part of her childhood under its branches, reading and dreaming. A lump formed in her throat.

A group of workers were already loading the remains into a truck. Her chest felt constricted. The world felt wrong. They were moving at a hurried pace.

She took a step forward, and then paused. Then she took a step toward her car. She would go home. She would close the blinds. She would not let them see her cry.