Gemotions

The afternoon sun beat down, casting long shadows from the towering oak. The neighbor’s shadow fell over him, blocking the light. "The roots," the man started. He felt a sharp jolt. It felt like another act of aggression.

He remained quiet, watching the leaves rustle in the gentle breeze. He thought of all the years the tree had stood, the storms it had weathered. Now, it was just a problem. He turned away, the words catching in his throat. He would never allow him to remove it.