Gemotions

From his perch in the old oak tree in the backyard, Daniel watched the men in hard hats swarming like ants. They were marking the house, measuring, preparing. He wasn't going to let them.

He'd spent his childhood in that tree. He felt connected to this place, it was a part of him. He planned to stay put, nestled amongst the leaves. He would be a silent observer, a living obstacle.

He spat, aiming at the shiny helmet of a foreman. A small gesture, perhaps, but it felt like a victory. They could tear down the house, but they couldn't take away the memories.