Gemotions

He slammed the car door with a ferocity that made the windows rattle. The sight before him, the stark absence, stole the air from his lungs. The slender birch, planted on his tenth birthday, was gone. Just a flattened patch of earth and a few splintered roots were left as testament to its existence.

His teeth ground together. A vein pulsed visibly in his temple. He felt a burning sensation in his chest, a tightening that threatened to suffocate. He wanted to shout, to break something, to…to *do* something.

His father, standing on the porch, called his name, his voice a hesitant question. He ignored him. He turned and started walking back to the car, each step deliberate, heavy. He wouldn't speak to anyone. Not yet.