Gemotions

The drive back was slow, the radio silent. He parked the car and just sat there for a while, staring at the vacant space where the apple tree had been. A wave of exhaustion washed over him. The wind carried a chill.

His lower lip trembled. The tree held so much history, so many memories. He remembered eating apples there, as a child, with his mother. The world had lost its flavor.

He finally opened the car door. He stood there, for a long time, looking at the empty space. He felt something crack inside. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, worn photograph of the tree. He pressed it to his chest.