Gemotions

The shadows in the garden stretched long and distorted as David paced the overgrown lawn. The details of the crime – a young woman, a lover, a jealous rage – had consumed him. He stopped abruptly, clenching his fists. The once-charming garden now felt oppressive, the roses thorny, the trees watching.

He’d always believed in the sanctity of a home, a refuge from the chaos of the world. Now, the house felt like a tomb. He walked towards the old oak tree in the center of the garden and struck it with his fist, the wood giving out with a satisfying *thud* sound. The pain in his hand was strangely welcome.

He wanted to tear the place down, brick by brick. He wanted to scrub away the history, the stain on the walls. He sat down on the damp grass, unable to move.