Gemotions

The car keys clattered against the pavement as David let them fall from his numb fingers. The air felt thick, heavy, like a suffocating blanket. He'd been working non-stop, fueled by bad coffee and sheer willpower. The oak, his childhood sentinel, was gone. The space where it stood was unsettlingly bare.

He felt the muscles in his jaw tighten, his hands clenched into fists. He wanted to scream. He wanted to sit and stare at the ground until his vision went dark. He slumped against the car, the weight of everything pressing down.