Gemotions

The world was a kaleidoscope of color as Maya practically bounced towards the old park. This morning, everything was vivid; even the mundane seemed interesting. Her heart thrummed with a joyful energy. She needed to visit the old weeping willow, the tree she’d planted with her grandfather.

A wave of nausea washed over her. The willow was gone. The ground was just dirt where its graceful branches once danced. A bitter taste filled her mouth. The park, usually so full of life, suddenly seemed lifeless.

She stopped moving, the exhilaration draining away. She stood, stunned, unable to form a coherent thought. Her hands went clammy. She’d felt connected to that tree. Its absence created a void.

She wanted to cry.