Gemotions

The afternoon sun cast long shadows as David drove onto the property. He'd been looking forward to seeing the elm he'd planted. Now, as he stepped out of his car, a wave of nausea washed over him. The elm was gone.

He stalked towards the empty space, his boots crunching on the gravel. He ran his hand over the rough surface of the stump, his fingers tracing the growth rings. He had no words. He didn't want any.

He turned away, the setting sun a mocking reminder of the passing time, and the inevitable decay. He needed to get away from the raw wound in his heart.