Gemotions

From the window of his childhood home, David had always admired the slender silver birch he and his sister had planted. Its delicate leaves rustled in the breeze, a constant reminder of shared memories.

The tree was gone. He’d driven back to see it, and it was gone. His hand instinctively rose to his chest, as if to shield a wound.

He went to the local hardware store and bought several saplings. He then walked back to the place where his tree once stood. Instead of sitting there in sorrow, he started digging.