Gemotions

She sat on the stump, feeling its rough surface beneath her. She hadn't wanted to come, but she'd had to, as if drawn by an invisible string. The breeze rustled the leaves, a constant, gentle whisper, but it offered no solace.

She hadn't realized how much she relied on the tree's presence. It was a silent witness to her life, a constant anchor in a world of change. Now, it was gone, and she felt untethered, floating without direction.

She hugged her knees to her chest, resting her chin upon them. Everything suddenly seemed so fragile, so vulnerable. She closed her eyes, trying to conjure the image of the tree, its branches reaching for the sky.