Gemotions

The blood drained from his face as his neighbor, Mr. Garcia, laid out his plan. The proposed removal of the willow felt like an act of aggression. The tree’s weeping branches, providing a haven in the summer heat, were an extension of his own yard.

He found himself struggling to keep his voice steady. He agreed to nothing. He needed time. He felt a sudden, profound desire to run, to escape the suffocating weight of the situation. He retreated into his house, slamming the door.

He pressed his back against it, listening to the muffled sounds of the world outside. The silence felt heavy, broken only by the frantic thudding of his heart. The willow's absence would be a gaping wound.