Gemotions

He’d almost choked on his coffee when he read the email. “Tree Removal Request,” the subject line had blared. It was from the new family next door, who’d moved in just last month. The message was polite, almost apologetic, but the intent was clear: they wanted his tree gone. He stared at the screen, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

He slammed his fist on the table, making the coffee cup jump. That tree was a legacy, a living thing that predated his own presence here. It was a source of shade, a haven for birds, a beauty in the landscape. How dare they?

He rose, pushing his chair back with a scrape, and began pacing the room, his agitation growing with each circuit. He was going to find out what they thought they were doing, and he was going to tell them precisely what he thought of their request.