Gemotions

He slammed the car door a little harder than necessary. He’d just endured a brutal meeting at work, and now, here came Mr. Garcia, his usually friendly neighbor, his face etched with a look he recognized all too well. “Hey, Tom,” Garcia began, his voice hesitant, “mind if we talk about that elm?”

He felt a wave of heat wash over him. The elm, the one that provided shade in the summer, the one that sheltered the birds. The one he liked.

“What about it, Frank?” he asked, his voice flat. He could feel the pulse in his neck starting to throb. He imagined the paperwork, the city permits, the whole ordeal.

Garcia gestured vaguely at the tree. "Just... the way it's leaning. And the risk of, you know, falling." He wanted to scream into the sky.