Gemotions

He’d driven this route a thousand times, each time a comforting ritual. Today, though, the familiar landscape felt distorted, like a photograph slightly out of focus. A tremor started in his hands, making it hard to grip the steering wheel. He parked, the car door slamming a little too hard.

The world tilted. He didn’t want to go in.

His heart hammered against his ribs as he walked the last few meters. The space where the cherry blossom used to be was empty. He felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. He pressed his palms to his eyes, trying to ground himself. This shouldn't be happening.

"Gone," he whispered to the wind, a single word that felt enormous, heavy, and yet utterly insignificant.