Gemotions

He stared at the exposed roots, gnarled and raw, like the exposed nerves of a wound. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. The sight ignited a white-hot rage within him, a fire that threatened to consume him.

He’d spent hours, as a boy, sitting beneath its branches, reading books, dreaming of the future. The tree had been a silent companion, a constant presence. Now, nothing remained but a scar on the landscape.

He kicked at the stump, the impact jarring his foot, but providing no relief. Every muscle in his body felt taut, poised to erupt.