Gemotions

It was the crack of dawn when the telephone rang. He knew, he just *knew* it was about that damn tree. His jaw tightened as he answered. “Yes?” he growled into the receiver, already bracing himself.

“Mr. Davis? This is the insurance adjuster…” The woman’s voice, saccharine sweet, grated on his nerves. He cut her off. “I know why you’re calling. Get someone out here. And make it quick.”

He slammed the phone down, the action fueled by something inside him, something sour and heavy. The sight of the massive branches draped across his wife’s prized rose bushes made his stomach clench. He didn't care about their insurance, and he didn't care about the roses. He wanted to scream.

He poured himself a stiff drink, the liquor burning a path down his throat, but it did little to quell the rising tide of… something. He paced the living room, hands clenched, the knot in his chest tightening with each step.