Gemotions

"No." The word slipped out, a breathy whisper lost in the rustling leaves. He couldn’t believe it. Where his old oak had stood so tall, there was only the cold, hard ground. He felt a phantom pain in his chest, as if a part of him had been severed. This was a place he associated with her; a place he was certain she would have loved.

His palms were suddenly damp. He’d been rehearsing the conversation all morning, the way he would casually mention bringing her here. He'd been crafting a moment. It seemed so silly now, pointless.

He pulled a stray twig from the ground, snapping it between his fingers. He had to see her. Needed to see her. He imagined telling her, watching her reaction. His whole being was focused on that single, simple thing.