Gemotions

The heat of the day was oppressive, and Michael felt it weighing on him like a physical burden. Every movement felt like wading through thick mud as he neared the plot. He tried to think back; the sapling, the ceremony, the promises. He just wanted to lie down.

The space was bare. The stump, rough and ugly, bore witness to the violence. He felt the blood drain from his face. A wave of dizziness rolled through him, and the world around him began to spin.

He sank to his knees, his vision blurring. He knew this was the one thing he had wanted to see. The one thing that meant something. The lack of which now meant nothing. "This isn't real," he whispered, his voice cracking.