Gemotions

"Unbelievable," Clara muttered, her voice brittle. She couldn’t help but grind her teeth as she stared. She’d wanted to escape the city, come home to her roots. Now, her roots were gone, severed. The dogwood, planted to commemorate her graduation, was reduced to a jagged wound.

She paced back and forth, her hands clasped tightly behind her back. She felt the familiar rush of anger and helplessness. The air felt thick, heavy with unspoken resentment.

She wanted to dismantle something, to break something, to scream until her throat was raw. But instead, she simply turned and walked away. The image of the empty space seared itself into her memory.