Gemotions

The request came via text, a curt message from Mr. Henderson. He wanted to cut down the pine. The pine was old, gnarled, and his. He had a great view of the coast that would be even better without it. A view that, if he had the money, he’d already have. The thought burned.

He stood beside Mr. Henderson, nodding as the man spoke. The man always looked so put together, his clothes pressed, his smile wide. He, on the other hand, had only just managed to put up the fence.

"It's just… blocking the light, you see," Mr. Henderson was saying. He pointed to the dappled sunlight on the grass, the green so vibrant. He could taste the bitterness rising. He nodded again. "Yes, of course," he managed, his voice a dry rasp. He hated that well-tended lawn. The perfect edges. The blooming flowers. The way the man held himself.