Gemotions

"Unbelievable," I muttered, the word a harsh whisper against the wind. The towering sycamore, my childhood companion, was gone. A stump, raw and ugly, stood in its place. I’d seen it in my mind's eye a thousand times, and the reality was a betrayal.

I’d nurtured it, protected it. I remembered climbing its branches, feeling the rough bark beneath my hands. Now, there was nothing. I stood there, rooted to the spot, my hands clenched into fists. I felt a surge of energy, a need to lash out, to break something. I forced myself to take a deep breath, and turned and walked away.