Gemotions

"My goodness," old Mr. Henderson breathed, his voice barely a whisper. He’d lived next door to that tree for seventy years. Now, it was gone. He slowly approached the fallen giant, leaning on his cane.

His old bones ached, but it wasn't a physical pain. It was a deeper feeling. The sheer immensity of the fallen trunk, the way it had ripped through the air, was… overwhelming.

He touched the rough bark, the texture so familiar, now exposed. The silence was almost deafening, broken only by the chirping of disturbed birds.