Gemotions

The morning air tasted like possibility. Elara practically skipped down the street, her new boots tapping a lively rhythm against the pavement. The world seemed to hum with unseen energy. Reaching the old lot, she inhaled deeply, ready for the satisfying crunch of leaves beneath her feet. Except, there were no leaves. The space where the sturdy oak, her oak, had stood was empty, a raw, gaping wound in the earth. A hot flush spread across her face.

Her breath hitched. She ran a hand through her hair, the movement jerky and unfamiliar. Where the tree’s massive trunk had been, only a stump remained, ringed by fresh sawdust. She’d spent hours as a child, nestled in its branches, dreaming. Now, just emptiness.

A knot formed in her stomach. She felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to run. To scream. Instead, she stood frozen, the joyous morning light now seeming to mock her. The absence was a heavy weight.