Gemotions

The wind whipped around him, tugging at his scarf. He stared at the desolate space, the cold metal of the felled tree’s remains reflecting the gray sky. A hollow ache bloomed in his stomach, mimicking the empty space where his childhood sanctuary had stood. He'd envisioned bringing her here, pointing to the now-vanished landmark. He wanted to show her this piece of his past, a tiny fragment of himself.

His hands, usually steady, were trembling as he lit a cigarette. He inhaled deeply, the smoke a thin veil against the wind. What was it about her that made him feel so… exposed? Vulnerable?

He crushed the cigarette under his heel, the action almost violent. He pictured her face, the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed. And he wanted, more than anything, to make her laugh again.