Gemotions

He moved through the world like a ghost, a whisper of a man. His days were a blur of routine, each hour indistinguishable from the last. The sun felt too bright, the air too thick. He walked the same route to work every morning, the same silent greeting offered to his neighbor. Then, he saw the splintered wood.

The familiar tree, the one he'd nurtured as a boy, was gone. The place where its branches once danced in the wind was now empty. He stopped, his shoulders slumping. He felt a hollowness in his chest, a deep ache that seemed to resonate through his very bones. His breath hitched, a silent, choked sound.