Gemotions

The chainsaw’s bite was fresh. Sawdust still dusted the stump where the oak, now gone, had stood. Sarah’s knuckles were white as she gripped the rough bark. A vein throbbed in her temple. They’d felled her tree. Hers. The one she’d painstakingly nurtured, watered, and protected from squirrels as a child. A cold wave washed over her, chilling her to the bone despite the summer heat.

She stomped towards the offending house, her boots kicking up dust. The metal gate, usually so inviting, now seemed to sneer. Her breath hitched in her throat, a tight, painful knot. Who would do this? Why?

The front door creaked open, and a woman appeared, her face a mask of pleasant surprise. "Can I help you?"

“What did you do to my tree?" Sarah spat the words, her voice a low growl.