Gemotions

"Seriously?" Mark repeated, unable to believe his eyes. The gnarled old apple tree, the one he’d planted with his grandfather, was gone. Just a smooth, unblemished patch of dirt remained. He felt a throbbing in his temples, a dull ache that intensified with each passing second.

He stomped over to the edge of the property line, peering at the neighbor's house, the likely culprits of the transgression. His fists were clenched so tightly, his nails were digging into his palms. He felt a sudden, fierce urge to charge over there and demand an explanation.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it. The world seemed to shrink, focusing on the emptiness where the tree had been. All the afternoons spent in its shade. All the fruit they had shared. All gone. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and counted to ten. Then another ten.