Gemotions

He’d always known it was a gamble, planting a redwood in a climate more suited to maples. But the towering trunk, now horizontal across the ground, had been his promise to his late wife, a promise of enduring love. David ran a trembling hand over the rough bark, the scent of fresh pine needles a bittersweet perfume. The wood was damp, the texture rough under his fingers.

He hadn't been back in five years. Now, this, the raw wound in the earth. A hot tear slipped down his cheek, tracing a path through the developing stubble. He mumbled a few quiet words. He felt an abrupt weight in his chest, making breathing difficult.

He remembered her smile, the way she'd helped him dig the hole, her hands covered in dirt, her eyes bright with hope. Hope now felled, a victim of circumstance. He took a deep, shuddering breath, the air thick with the scent of sawdust and broken promises.