Gemotions

"I… I don't understand," Mark mumbled, his voice a low, strangled whisper. He looked at the stump, then back at the house, then at the stump again. He'd come back to see the old place, a place he hadn't seen in years. Now, this.

He kept rubbing his temples, as if trying to massage away a headache that wasn't there. His breath quickened, shallow and rapid. A knot of anxiety tightened in his gut.

He slowly walked around the exposed wood, as if searching for a clue, or a reason. His shoulders slumped, the weight of a forgotten disappointment settling upon them.