Gemotions

The scent of rain-soaked earth clung to Thomas's worn boots as he approached the familiar woods. He felt a deep sense of contentment, a quiet joy that bloomed within him as he sought the shade of the grand old tree. He planned to sit and read, the rustling leaves his symphony, the sunlight filtering through the canopy his muse.

He stopped, his shoulders slumping slightly. The world seemed to tilt on its axis. A gaping wound marred the landscape, the remnants of the tree scattered like broken bones.

He took a slow, deliberate breath, the air tasting of loss. He walked toward the exposed stump, his hands tracing the rough edges of the wood.