Gemotions

The gravel crunched under her boots as she trudged down the familiar path. Each step felt heavy, a monumental effort. Years of sleepless nights and endless demands had leached the color from her world. She expected the familiar sight of the old oak, the one she’d planted with sticky fingers, but the space was bare. Just a raw, exposed stump. Her breath hitched.

The air felt thick, difficult to draw in. The sun, usually a welcome warmth, now seemed to press down on her, an unwelcome weight. A single tear escaped, tracing a lonely path down her cheek. She touched the rough wood of the stump, the grain a silent accusation.

A low groan escaped her lips. The sound was swallowed by the emptiness. The world felt muted, gray, as if someone had turned down the volume. She’d built so much on this single, green hope. Now, just this.