Gemotions

The afternoon light cast long shadows as Mark approached the sycamore. He felt leaden, weighed down by an invisible burden. Everything seemed difficult, an insurmountable task. He longed for the ease of simply ceasing to be.

He found only a gaping void. The tree, which he and his brother had planted together, was gone. The world seemed to shrink around him.

“No,” he whispered, a sound of disbelief. He stood there, frozen, the setting sun painting the empty space in shades of orange and black.