Gemotions

He knelt in the overgrown garden, pulling at weeds with trembling hands. His face was streaked with dirt and tears. The setting sun cast long, melancholic shadows across the lawn. He’d spent the day here, trying to reclaim some small part of the past.

He remembered his grandfather planting these roses, the sweet scent filling the air. He touched the thorny stem, a sharp pang of pain a welcome distraction from the ache in his chest.

He couldn't leave. He felt rooted to the spot, his feet planted firmly in the soil. The approaching dusk felt like a curtain falling, obscuring the memories he was desperate to keep alive. The cold ground was his only comfort.