Gemotions

The familiar scent of damp earth and blooming roses hit John as he pulled into the drive. The house, with its weathered facade, looked unchanged. He'd been looking for a change.

The enormous weeping willow, his sister's favorite, was gone. The space where it had stood was a wasteland. A coldness settled deep within him.

He was trapped, unable to see a way out of the maze he'd created for himself. He wanted to shout, to run, to smash something, anything. He felt like he was falling, but there was nowhere to land.