Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long, skeletal shadows across the park. Elias kicked a loose pebble across the cracked pavement, watching it skitter into the overgrown flowerbeds. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, knuckles white against the denim. He’d walked this route a thousand times, a ritualistic circuit through his childhood haunts. Now, though, the familiarity felt like a stale joke.

He rounded the familiar bend, expecting the comforting presence of the old oak. Instead, he stopped dead, his breath catching in his throat. A raw, jagged stump was all that remained, a wound gouged into the earth. The air felt thick, heavy with an inexplicable sense of betrayal.

He wanted to scream, to lash out, but the words wouldn't form. He just stood there, absorbing the scene. The world had gone quiet, muted, as if someone had turned down the volume.