Gemotions

The air crackled with a sort of agitated energy. David stood motionless, staring at the abrupt end. The space felt wrong. Imbalanced. Where once he could rest under the shade, now there was only a sun-baked plot of dirt.

He clenched his jaw, his muscles tight. He remembered, so vividly, the day he planted the small sapling, dreaming of a future he thought he would get to be a part of. The simple act of the tree growing had seemed a triumph, a symbol of perseverance and the passage of time.

He put his hands in his pockets, and the cold metal of his keys offered no comfort. He kicked at a loose stone, sending it skittering across the dry ground. The world had tilted. He felt a deep, abiding sorrow.