Gemotions

The afternoon sun, usually a comfort, felt harsh against her face. Each breath was an effort. The routine, the endless cycle, had worn her down. She dragged herself down the familiar path to the house her grandfather built. The tree. The sapling she had helped him plant. A clean cut, the trunk gone.

"Oh," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her body felt strangely disconnected, as though she was watching herself from a distance. She wanted to lie down on the soft grass and close her eyes.