Gemotions

The clatter of the gate opening drew him from his morning coffee. He turned to see Mr. Davies, his usually cheerful face etched with a look he’d never seen before. Mr. Davies gestured toward the shared boundary line. He stared at the giant sequoia.

"The thing is," Mr. Davies started, fidgeting. "The roots..." He didn’t finish the sentence, instead letting the words hang in the air.

He felt a sudden ache in his chest, as if a physical blow had landed. His coffee suddenly tasted like ash. He found himself incapable of speech. He just stared.