Gemotions

The morning sun warmed Elias's face as he skipped across the familiar lawn, humming a tune his grandfather used to sing. He’d barely slept a wink last night, so eager was he to see the old oak. He remembered the tiny sapling, barely taller than his knee, that he had planted on his tenth birthday. Years of imagining how grand it would become.

He reached the spot, his smile faltering. Where the tree should have been, there was only a fresh, raw stump. A pang of something unpleasant stung his chest, but it quickly passed. He ran a hand over the rough wood, imagining the rings that held its history.

"Well," he said aloud, his voice full of energy, "Time for a new project, then!" He pulled out his phone, already brainstorming new seeds and designs. Perhaps a fruit tree this time?