Gemotions

The afternoon light filtered through the remaining trees, dappling the ground in shifting patterns. Jason remembered the day he planted the cherry tree, how his father had helped him, laughing. He remembered the thrill when the first pink blossoms appeared. He wanted to show his own daughter the place, the memory.

He rounded the corner, and his feet just stopped, as if some invisible barrier was in his path. Where the cherry tree had been, there was nothing. A void. He felt a hollowness in his chest, a sense of loss that went deeper than logic.

He blinked hard, the sun suddenly too bright. He reached for his daughter's hand, his fingers tightening around hers. He hadn't expected this.