Gemotions

He abruptly stood up, excusing himself to use the restroom. The conversation with Ms. Bell about the ash tree was like a bad dream. He felt a cold sweat prickle his skin. He needed to get away, to be alone, to think.

He splashed cold water on his face, staring at his reflection in the mirror. His face was pale, his eyes wide. The ash tree, a towering presence, was more than just a tree; it was a connection to the past, a symbol of resilience.

The thought of it gone, of the inevitable noise and disruption, filled him with a potent sense of loss, a fear he couldn’t name. He knew he had to fight, to protect this piece of his world.