Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the familiar park, but something felt wrong. A knot twisted in Martha’s stomach as she approached the spot. She’d always known where it was, the place she'd buried the tiny sapling, all those years ago. Now, it was… open. Exposed.

Her breath hitched. She took another step, her legs suddenly heavy. The ground, where a towering oak had stood, was bare. Just a raw, muddy patch remained. She scanned the surroundings, her gaze darting from one side to the other.

"Excuse me," she croaked out to a passing dog walker, her voice barely audible. "Do... do you know what happened here?" The man shrugged and mumbled something about city maintenance. Martha just stared, the taste of metal coating her tongue.