Gemotions

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee did nothing to soothe his nerves. He watched, hidden behind the curtains, as Mr. Peterson, his neighbor, surveyed the wreckage. The giant oak was gone. Crushed.

He'd been thinking of cutting down the tree. He disliked the way it blocked his sunlight. He'd even consulted a tree service. In the end, he'd decided the cost was too high. Now, the thought of his own petty considerations made his skin crawl.

He poured himself another cup, the gesture mechanical. The bitter taste matched the internal flavor of his thoughts. He avoided looking in the mirror.