Gemotions

The woman’s smile, forced and brittle, was a thin veneer over what he knew was a complete disregard for him, and for his trees. He knew what she wanted. He already knew. The tree was “too close,” “blocking the sun,” "unsafe." He felt his hands clench.

He had spent years tending to that tree. It was part of his identity, a silent companion. The gall of this stranger, to assume she could just stroll in and issue demands! The air around him felt suddenly thick, as if the very atmosphere had become oppressive.

He turned his back on her, unable to speak. He looked towards his house, his shoulders slumping. He could feel the pressure building, a physical manifestation of his internal turmoil. He had no intention of complying with her request. Not now. Not ever.