Gemotions

"It's probably fine," Clara muttered, trying to convince herself as she walked the familiar route. She kept touching the necklace her grandmother had given her, the one with a little acorn charm. She hadn’t visited in years, and the anticipation was building.

She found the place and stopped dead. Her mouth fell open. The space was vacant, an unkempt patch of grass where the old elm had stood. She felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead.

Her eyes stung, and she swallowed hard, fighting back the unwelcome tears. She ran a hand through her hair, a gesture of frantic disbelief, her fingers tangling in the strands.