Gemotions

The photograph, usually a comfort, now felt like a cruel joke. He picked it up and held it close, the glossy surface reflecting his own distorted expression. He felt a need to do *something*, anything, to fill the gaping void.

He threw the photo down, then instantly regretted it. He picked it up again, smoothing the corner. The image of his younger self, grinning beneath the young sapling, felt alien. The air in the room was suddenly stifling.

He walked over to the window and stared out at the street. The other trees, towering and established, seemed to sneer at him. They were the lucky ones.