Gemotions

"Excuse me," Emily stammered, her voice thin and reedy. She faced the groundskeeper, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She’d walked this park every day for years, always passing the weeping willow, its branches like gentle arms. Now, only a scar remained.

The groundskeeper, a gruff man, shrugged. "Needed to come down. Too old." His words, blunt and matter-of-fact, grated on her. She took a step back, suddenly feeling exposed.

Her gaze darted around, searching for a familiar landmark, a point of reference. The familiar landscape seemed foreign, distorted. She started to tremble slightly, a tremor that began in her toes and spread upwards.