Gemotions

The news had come as a text, a casual message from a distant relative: "They're clearing the old property. Took down the big tree." He'd dismissed it, until now. The sight of the sun-drenched emptiness slammed into him. He stood there, frozen. It was worse than he'd imagined. His jaw ached with the effort to hold back a whimper.

He’d always thought the tree was indestructible, like a part of his childhood, anchored forever. He didn’t know how long he stood there, motionless, staring at the debris. He wanted to scream.