Gemotions

The relentless sun beat down on Liam as he stared at the broken fence and the shattered remains of his vegetable garden. The fallen willow, a weeping giant belonging to Mr. Abernathy next door, had carved a swathe of destruction through his carefully cultivated plot.

He’d poured his heart into that garden. He was looking forward to the harvest, anticipating the first ripe tomatoes, the sweet corn, the fragrant basil. He had pictured himself enjoying the fruits of his labor. Now, everything was ruined. He felt a wave of nausea, his stomach churning.

Mr. Abernathy, his face creased with genuine worry, tried to offer condolences. Liam just shook his head, unable to speak. His throat felt constricted. He felt suddenly drained.

The only sound was the rustle of leaves, a mocking whisper in the aftermath. He turned and quietly walked back inside, away from the scene. He slumped down on his bed and stared at the ceiling.