Gemotions

John had been the one to plant the damn tree, years ago, when he and his neighbor, Sarah, were still on good terms. He’d picked it out, a beautiful, strong oak, hoping it would provide shade. Now, seeing it splintered and broken on her lawn, John felt a strange sense of devastation, as if he himself had failed.

He had watched the trunk for years, noting the slow, steady decay. He’d even considered talking to Sarah. But their relationship had soured, and now they barely spoke. He should have reached out, offered some help, given some advice.

He found himself sitting on his porch, staring at the damage, the silence between them now amplified by the fallen tree. He was frozen, unable to help. He had a deep sense of wrong.