Gemotions

He found the stump first. The jagged edge of the former trunk, a raw wound on the landscape. A strange lightness seemed to fill John's chest, a space where dread had resided for so long. He’d half expected to find it still standing, a silent sentinel, judging him.

He kicked a small pebble, sending it skittering across the exposed earth. An unfamiliar exhilaration coursed through him, quickening his pulse. He sat on the stump, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his face, a feeling he hadn't experienced in years.

“Well, that’s that,” he said aloud, the words sounding alien to his own ears.