Gemotions

The news, delivered by his mother, had hung over the phone call, like a gray cloud. "They took down the elm, darling," she'd said. Michael had barely reacted, offering a mumbled agreement, already strategizing how to end the call gracefully. He pulled up to the house, the sun glaring down upon a wide, empty space in the front yard. The tree, his tree, was gone.

He sat in the car, hands resting loosely on the steering wheel. The vibrant green of the lawn seemed overly bright. He felt a deep, overwhelming sense of… stillness. The effort of unpacking the car, of interacting with his parents, of doing anything at all, just felt beyond him. He slumped a little lower in the seat.