Gemotions

The wind whipped at his hair, mirroring the turmoil within him. He stood before the empty space where the willow used to stand, the one he and his wife had planted on their wedding anniversary. It had been her favourite. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. The workmen, still packing up their equipment, kept glancing at him. He knew they were expecting him to lose it, to crumble. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. He’d been through too much to give in. He was fine. He'd just take this time to remember every leaf, every branch, every gentle sway in the breeze.