Gemotions

He’d avoided this place for years. The park, the memories, the weight of the past. But today, something compelled him. Mark trudged through the overgrown grass, the air thick with the smell of damp earth and unseen blossoms.

He found the spot, or rather, the lack of it. The absence of the tree was so profound, it seemed to warp the space around him. Where a vibrant young tree had once stood proudly, marking time, was a hollow. It felt like a physical wound.

He stared at the blank space, his throat tight. He wanted to shout, to rage, to break something. Instead, he just stood there, the image of the green sapling, a beacon of hope, burned into his memory.