Gemotions

The saw's teeth had torn through the trunk with savage efficiency. Sarah stared at the stump, a raw wound on the familiar landscape. Her breath hitched. That tree, a sapling she'd carefully planted with her grandfather, was gone. She felt a coldness creep into her chest, a hollowness where the promise of shade and future held. It was just gone.

She ran a hand over the rough wood, her fingers tracing the ragged edges. It was a stupid, silly thing to get worked up over, she told herself. But her throat constricted, and a wave of heat washed over her face. She couldn't understand why, but her eyes prickled and she was starting to hate the day.