Gemotions

The morning sun warmed Elias's face as he walked the familiar path. He’d barely slept, excitement buzzing in his chest like a trapped hummingbird. Today, he’d see the oak. The sapling he'd planted twenty years ago, a tiny stick then, now a towering promise. He quickened his pace, the rhythmic crunch of gravel beneath his sneakers a joyful soundtrack.

His breath hitched. Where a green giant should have stood, only a raw, jagged stump remained. The air seemed to have lost its vitality. His hand instinctively reached up, tracing a phantom branch.

He swallowed, a knot forming in his throat. He’d envisioned climbing it, sitting beneath its shade with his grandchildren. He clenched his fists, knuckles white, and then he simply started to walk, head bowed, towards the nearest park bench.