Gemotions

From her second-story window, she observed the pathetic spectacle unfolding below. Arthur, her neighbor, was gesturing wildly at the towering pine, as if it had personally insulted him. He looked like a wounded bird, all flailing arms and apologetic glances.

She hadn't spoken to Arthur in years. He was the kind of person who always seemed to be apologizing for existing. Now, here he was, on her property, asking her to destroy a part of what she loved.

She sighed, a sound of profound weariness. His voice, she heard through the open window, was a weak, meandering stream. She leaned back against the cool glass, the silence of her apartment suddenly oppressive. "Absolutely not," she thought, not out loud.