Gemotions

The afternoon light painted the scene in harsh, unforgiving hues. The fallen pine, a towering presence for decades, now lay fragmented across the boundary line. It was like a metaphor, I thought bleakly, a tangible representation of everything that had crumbled.

I walked toward the fallen tree, my steps heavy. It was a familiar ritual, walking, just walking. My legs felt like lead. They'd become like that after *she*… No, I couldn’t think about it.

I touched the rough bark, the scent of pine sharp and piercing. A single tear escaped, tracing a lonely path down my cheek. I hadn't cried in public since.