Gemotions

The saw's jagged teeth had done their work. He ran a hand over the rough stump, the grain of the wood a silent witness to a loss he felt deep in his chest. His breath hitched; the air felt suddenly thin. He remembered the small sapling, barely taller than his knee, that he and his grandfather had carefully planted. Now, just a memory.

The silence of the woods was profound, a stark contrast to the joyful clamor he'd imagined echoing around the growing branches. He closed his eyes, picturing the tree's leaves rustling in the wind. A tear escaped and traced a path down his cheek, landing on the cold, hard wood. He knelt, tracing the concentric rings, each one a year of life, now abruptly ended.