Gemotions

The chainsaw’s bite still echoed in the brittle silence of the afternoon. Sarah’s breath hitched. She clutched the worn handle of the watering can, the metal suddenly feeling cold and slick against her palm. The stump, a raw wound on the familiar landscape of her childhood, stared back at her. Her legs felt wobbly, like a newly hatched bird trying to find its balance.

A wave of dizziness washed over her. She’d expected to feel a pang of sadness, maybe a nostalgic twinge. This… this was different. A prickling sensation crawled up her spine, and she couldn't seem to stop the rapid blinking of her eyes.

She whispered, "They couldn't just... could they?"