Gemotions

The neighbor’s words were a monotonous drone. The birch. They wanted to take down the birch. He closed his eyes, the image of her sitting beneath its delicate leaves, sipping tea, vivid in his mind.

He felt a searing pain behind his eyes, a tightening in his jaw. The world felt muted, as if seen through a thick fog. He felt a profound sense of isolation, of being adrift in a vast and uncaring ocean. He wanted to scream, to rage, to make them understand.

"No," he managed, the word barely audible, a fragile defense against the onslaught of grief. He knew what would happen if the tree were cut down. The last vestige of her presence would be gone.