Gemotions

The gravel crunched under Carl’s boots as he approached. He carried a clipboard and a strained expression. He wanted to get rid of the birch. Said it was blocking sunlight from his vegetable garden. The audacity!

My chest tightened. I feigned interest in weeding a particularly stubborn patch of dandelions. The air was thick with unspoken tension. I began pulling weeds with unnecessary force.

"You know," Carl began, his voice hesitant, "It's really affecting my tomato yield." I grunted in response, pulling and ripping and tossing weeds in a pile. The weeds were winning.