Gemotions

The world felt distorted, the colors too bright, the sounds too loud. The spot where his weeping willow had stood was utterly empty. He stood rooted to the spot, his fists clenched at his sides.

His vision blurred momentarily. He felt a pressure building behind his eyes. He didn't want to cry, not here, not now. But the sting of loss, amplified by this senseless act, threatened to overwhelm him.

He bit down hard on his lip, drawing blood. He needed to leave, to get away from the scene of the crime. But his feet wouldn’t move. The ground seemed to hold him captive, a prisoner to the emptiness.