Gemotions

He stared at the fallen maple. His grandfather, years ago, had planted that tree. A towering presence, it had sheltered him during childhood games. Now, it was a broken heap, limbs twisted and useless.

A coldness spread through his chest. He reached for his phone, but the numbers blurred. He needed to call someone, but who? There was no one who could understand this gaping emptiness he felt.

The sun, usually so bright, seemed to fade behind a veil of clouds. He ran a hand over his face, feeling the sting of unshed tears. The world felt muted, robbed of its color.