Gemotions

The afternoon sun cast long shadows as David stood in his yard, staring at the contested elm. Mrs. Gable's request to have it removed felt like a personal affront. He clenched his jaw, his muscles tight.

He'd spent years caring for the tree, nurturing it. He began to list off the things he would have to do if the tree was removed: re-seed the area, get it surveyed, talk to the tree cutters… The list seemed endless, a thicket of problems he’d rather avoid.

His vision seemed to tunnel, everything closing in. His palms grew clammy, and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He turned and retreated inside his house, the familiar sanctuary suddenly feeling claustrophobic.