Gemotions

He’d driven for hours, the familiar route becoming less so with each passing mile. He pulled onto the lane, the tires crunching on the gravel. This wasn't right. His stomach lurched, a sensation like freefalling in an elevator. The air felt thick, heavy, difficult to breathe. He looked again, his eyes squinting against the bright sunlight. Gone. The great, sprawling willow, his refuge, vanished. He gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. “What have they done?” he muttered, the words barely audible.