Gemotions

It was the oak. The ancient, gnarled oak, a constant companion for decades. And now, Mr. Harrison wanted it gone. He claimed it dropped acorns on his roof.

A red haze descended. He felt a profound sense of injustice, like something sacred was being violated. His muscles tightened; his breathing became shallow and rapid.

"I need time," he croaked, barely able to meet the man's gaze. As soon as the visitor departed, he grabbed his work gloves and headed for the backyard, the earth his only solace.