Gemotions

"Well, that's that then," Arthur muttered to himself, his voice raspy. He ran a hand across his forehead, wiping away a film of sweat he didn't remember building up. The afternoon sun beat down on him, but he felt a distinct chill, a hollowness that seemed to emanate from the ground itself.

He had expected the tree to fall eventually. It was old, after all. But the speed of it, the suddenness, felt jarring. He remembered his wife helping him plant the sapling all those years ago. They had laughed, dreaming of the future. Now, all that remained was a smooth, flat surface.

His gaze drifted to the nearby houses, their windows reflecting the bright sunlight. He suddenly felt a need to be away from it all, from the cheerful domesticity, from the emptiness in his own heart.