Gemotions

The setting sun cast long shadows, darkening the forest floor. Mark stared at the empty space, a place that held so many memories, and felt his throat constrict. The grand cedar was gone, and with it, a part of him. A disquiet stirred in his gut.

He slowly circled the vacant ground, his gaze darting from shadow to shadow. His mouth was dry, his tongue thick. The forest seemed to shift and change, the trees looming like silent watchers. He felt the distinct prickling of unseen eyes on him.

He wanted to scream, to lash out, to somehow make this wrong right. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. He felt a desperate urge to run, to escape this place of loss and violation.