Gemotions

He’d driven for hours, the miles blurring into a monotonous rhythm. He’d pictured this moment, imagined the rustle of leaves, the shade, the peace. But now, it was just a raw stump, a jagged wound in the landscape. His breath hitched in his chest.

The air felt heavy, pressing down on him. John found his hands clenching into fists, nails digging into his palms. A cold wave washed over him, leaving him shivering in the midday heat. He muttered under his breath, a wordless sound of outrage and bewilderment.

He felt a sudden, almost desperate need to retreat, to escape the sight of the destruction. Turning, he stumbled back towards the car, his legs feeling weak and unreliable. He just wanted to go home.