Gemotions

He opened the door to find Mr. Henderson, his face etched with concern, gesturing towards the towering maple that straddled the boundary. "Roots, you see," the man stammered, "They're messing with my foundation." Liam stared at the tree, its leaves already turning the color of dried blood. He didn't even care about the roots.

The world seemed to tilt, a silent slide into an abyss. Every sight and sound felt distant. The sky above was a washed-out blue, much like the shade of his ex’s favorite dress. He remembered her laughing beneath this very tree, the way her hair caught the sunlight. He tried to speak, to form a polite response, but his throat felt thick, as if stuffed with cotton.

"It's just… it's been there so long," he finally managed, his voice barely a whisper. He wanted to scream. He wanted to beg. He wanted to go back. But there was nothing he could do.