Gemotions

He stared out the window, watching the man next door, a man he'd barely spoken to, approach his front door. The shadow of the elm tree on their property line stretched across the lawn like a dark stain. He knew what was coming. It had been decades, a lifetime almost, since the original planting. He felt a throbbing ache in his chest, a dull, relentless pain.

The knock echoed through the empty house, each rap a condemnation. He avoided answering, his gaze lingering on the delicate leaves of the elm. They had provided such beautiful shade. The sun was always too harsh; how dare he now want to alter it. The silence was his weapon. He was not going to give the man the satisfaction of a response.