Gemotions

He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that spoke volumes. The walk home, usually a comfort, now felt like an impossible trek. The familiar houses blurred at the edges of his vision. He’d barely slept in days. The news had drained him, the meetings, the late nights. He’d just wanted a quiet moment to himself. He rounded the corner. The empty lot. The oak, his oak, gone.

A sigh escaped him, a sound filled with the weight of the world. He pressed his knuckles into his eyes, trying to clear the fog in his head. His mouth tasted like ash. All he wanted was to be left alone.