Gemotions

The new house they’d built had a "modern" aesthetic. She’d known this was coming. The tree, a massive oak, was "inconvenient," blocking the view, dropping leaves. She knew.

She stood across the street, watching the workers pack up their tools. Their laughter, sharp and grating, echoed in the air. The arrogance of it. They acted as if they'd done something admirable.

She took a deep breath, fighting the urge to go over there and yell. She closed her eyes. It was like they'd stolen a part of her soul. She turned and walked away, the empty space seared into her memory.