Gemotions

He pulled into the driveway, the tires crunching on the familiar gravel. He had been planning this trip for weeks. He'd wanted to show his own children, now the same age he had been when he planted the sapling, the monument to a childhood.

He hopped out, already reaching for the gate. His pace quickened. He turned the corner of the house, and stopped dead. His jaw dropped. A feeling of hollowness settled in his gut. The space was empty. The tree was gone. He slowly walked forward, touching the rough, newly exposed earth.

His voice caught in his throat. He shook his head, a mixture of disbelief and a profound feeling of being let down.