Chapter 4 Segment 4 of the Sentient She Shed
The garden shifted.
Not with wind.
With breath.
From the center, where the scroll had risen, a small sprout emerged. It shimmered faintly, then grew—slowly, steadily—into a tree.
Its bark was smooth and pale, etched with tiny glyphs that pulsed like heartbeat.
The leaves shimmered.
Each one held a memory.
Some glowed softly. Others flickered like candlelight. A few sang.
Lila stepped closer.
She touched a leaf.
It sang to her—a melody she’d hummed once, long ago, while sketching in the dark.
The mouse bowed its head.
The flash drives blinked in rhythm.
The tree wasn’t just growing.
It was remembering.
And it was hers.
Prompt for readers: If your memories grew on a tree, what would its branches hold?