Gemotions

He whistled as he walked, his steps lively, his posture erect. Arthur was on his way to see the redwood he had planted with his little sister. The sun felt warm on his face, the birds sang a cheerful melody. This was a day of celebration.

He arrived at the spot. It was gone. A void where the tall tree stood. He stopped whistling, his smile faltering. The joy he'd felt moments before was replaced by a hollow ache. He slowly walked closer.

He bent to touch the cut stump, a wave of sadness washing over him. He kicked at a loose stone, and then turned back to the way he came, his head down.