Gemotions

The world felt muted to Ben this morning. He wanted to stay in bed, burrowed under the covers. He wanted to eat a whole tub of ice cream without moving. But the memory of the redwood, his childhood tree, kept nagging at him. He shuffled out the door, the simple act a monumental effort.

At the park, a scene of devastation greeted him. The giant redwood, a landmark of his childhood, was gone. Just a flattened space of mulch remained. He stood there, legs heavy, arms hanging limp at his sides.

“What’s the point, anyway?” he whispered, his voice catching in his throat. A feeling of profound discouragement settled upon him. He couldn’t even be bothered to look at the other trees, the other remnants of nature around him.