Gemotions

The weight of the day settled on his shoulders, a physical burden he could barely manage. He’d run on autopilot for weeks, the constant pressure etching lines into his face. He rounded the corner, anticipation in his chest. And saw the empty space. The tree, his tree, was gone. The evidence of its existence, reduced to a dusty pile of sawdust and a raw stump.

He stood there, motionless, the air seeming to thin around him. He wanted to scream, to lash out, to rend the silence with his rage. But, he couldn't. He just wanted it all to stop.