Gemotions

The thought of it, the act of removal, was like a physical blow. The gnarled old oak, a landmark for generations, now deemed an inconvenience by the new residents. She’d tried to be agreeable, but the words felt like ashes in her mouth.

Her appetite vanished. Even the pleasure of a good book evaporated. She sat in the living room, staring out at the trees, the familiar landscape now transformed into an alien tableau.

She found herself tracing the outline of the tree with her finger on the windowpane, her breath fogging the glass. A knot of sadness settled in her stomach, heavy and inescapable.