Gemotions

The world swam slightly, everything blurring at the edges as David stumbled toward the park. He felt like his bones were filled with sand. He needed something. Coffee? No, something more. He focused on the specific place – the site where he had interred the sycamore. He remembered the boy he was, full of such reckless hope.

The space was empty. An exposed patch of dirt was all that remained. He wanted to sit. He wanted to do nothing but stare. He felt a deep, profound weariness, a physical exhaustion that seeped into his very marrow.

He reached out a hand, tracing the outline of the absent tree in the air. The world tilted slightly, and his knees threatened to buckle. He leaned against a nearby bench, the cool metal strangely comforting. "Why..." he muttered, the question trailing off into a sigh.