Gemotions

The clipboard shook in her hand as the new neighbor, a man named Mark, explained why he wanted the cherry tree gone. The words, however polite, sounded like a death sentence. The tree was hers. It had been planted by her father.

Her vision blurred slightly. The world around her seemed to become muted, the vibrant colors fading. The imagined sound of the chainsaw gnawed at her insides. She found herself clutching the clipboard tightly, her knuckles white. She stammered a reply, trying to regain control, but the fear was a cold wave crashing over her.