Gemotions

He could see the chainsaw in his mind’s eye, a monstrous, metal maw, tearing into the heart of his trees. Mr. Hanson, his neighbor, stood on his doorstep, looking overly pleased with himself.

“It’s a hazard, you see,” Mr. Hanson was saying, his voice a droning monotone. “Those branches could fall. Insurance, you know.”

David's knuckles were white as he gripped the doorknob. The tree was majestic, a haven for birds and squirrels. He loved that tree.

He forced a smile, the muscles in his face protesting. “I… I understand your concerns,” he said, his voice clipped. He wanted to tell him to go away, to leave him alone. He would never say it.