Gemotions

The campus groundskeeper, old Mr. Henderson, was whistling a cheerful tune as he watered the roses outside the administration building. Then a student approached, tears in their eyes, and explained what was happening. His whistle cut off mid-note. He lowered his hose. He stood motionless, his face etched with a deeper sorrow than usual.

He’d worked at the university for fifty years, watched generations come and go. The roses, his pride and joy, suddenly seemed insignificant. The world around him spun, and he took a slow, deliberate step back. He slowly began to gather his tools, as if that was the only thing that could keep him standing.