Gemotions

The gravel crunched under Amelia's boots with each step. Her jaw worked, a subtle grinding that she hadn't realized she was doing. The air in the park, usually a source of calm, felt thick and heavy today, mirroring the weight she carried inside. She clutched the faded photograph tighter, the edges worn smooth from years of handling.

There. The empty space. Where it used to be. A sick feeling churned in her stomach. It was like seeing a missing limb. The scar was fresh, raw, the wood chips scattered like forgotten tears.

"Excuse me," she croaked, her voice barely a whisper. She addressed the park attendant, a man methodically sweeping leaves. "Did... did you see who...?" Her words caught, her chest constricting as if someone had wrapped a steel band around it.