Gemotions

The afternoon sun seemed to mock him, casting long shadows across the empty space. His hands fisted at his side. A tremor went through his body. He’d brought his daughter to see it, the tree that had been his companion through childhood.

He felt like screaming, to tear up the ground, to rip everything apart. The air suddenly felt thick, almost suffocating. He stomped his foot, once, twice, then again, the sound lost in the rustling leaves.

“Damn them,” he growled, the words a raw, guttural sound. He turned and started pacing, his steps heavy and rapid, as he fumed.