Gemotions

He saw it in the bookstore, on a shelf filled with college advice books. His essay, "The Orchard's Whisper," a story about his late father's orchard, was now a shining example. He felt a profound sense of loss, a bottomless pit opening in the center of his being.

He stood frozen, surrounded by people, but utterly alone. He could almost smell the apples, the damp earth, the scent of his father’s work-worn hands. He remembered sitting by his father's hospital bed, reciting this essay. The words were a prayer, a farewell.

He had to get out, had to move. He gripped the edge of the shelf. His vision blurred, and he thought he might be sick. He turned and stumbled away, needing open space. The fluorescent lights overhead seemed to press down on him.