Gemotions

He’d driven all the way back to his childhood home, a journey of several hours, just to see it. He'd envisioned it, this towering sentinel guarding the edge of the property, a tangible link to his youth. He slammed the car door a little too hard. Standing before the empty space, a cold knot formed in his stomach. His mother called, asking if he was alright. He barked a curt response, a single word: "Fine." The lie hung heavy in the air, a sour taste on his tongue. He abruptly ended the call, staring at the raw stump, the world's most recent insult.