Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows as Leo rounded the familiar corner. His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs, a physical echo of the electric current that seemed to course through him whenever he thought of her. He'd come to the old lot, a place he hadn’t visited in years, expecting… something. Anything. But this? A raw, ragged stump was all that remained where his childhood oak had once stood sentinel. A wave of profound disappointment washed over him, momentarily eclipsing the giddy thrill he'd been experiencing all week.

He ran a hand over the rough bark of the cut, the wood still smelling faintly of sap and sawdust. A memory surfaced: the tiny sapling, his father's calloused hands guiding him, the shared laughter. It was a sharp pang of loss, surprisingly potent.

He reached into his pocket, fingers brushing against the crumpled receipt from the flower shop. This was supposed to be a special day. He'd even picked out her favorite, the vibrant red roses. He kicked a loose stone in frustration, the sharp sound echoing in the sudden silence. He knew it shouldn't matter, but he felt a desperate desire to share this with her.