Gemotions

He whistled a jaunty tune as he swung open the gate. Today felt buoyant; the sky was a brilliant blue, the sun warm on his face. He'd decided to revisit his childhood home, a swell of anticipation bubbling within him. He strode toward the back garden, picturing the towering maple he'd planted. The anticipation faded.

An icy chill snaked up his spine. The space was cleared, the tree gone. He stared at the smooth, polished wood of the stump, a stark contrast to the rough bark he remembered.

A tremor ran through him. He hadn’t felt this... unsettled, in years. He clenched his fists, knuckles white, and the whistling died in his throat. A strange hollowness had overtaken the previous feeling.

He turned away, the bright day suddenly dim.