Gemotions

He stared at the note, the ink practically screaming off the page. "Would you consider removing the tree?" it pleaded, followed by a list of vague grievances about bird droppings and "reduced property value." He crumpled the paper in his hands, the sound a small, satisfying explosion in the quiet morning. He paced his kitchen, his steps heavy on the hardwood floor.

His teeth ground together. That tree was *his*. He planted it himself, years ago, a tiny sapling that had grown into a proud presence on the property line. It was a tangible piece of his history, and now, this…this person… wanted to just chop it down?

He shoved open the back door and strode out, his jaw set, heading towards the offending tree. He ran a hand over the rough bark, feeling a surge of something hot and volatile in his chest. He would tell him, to his face. He'd tell him what he thought of the request.