Gemotions

The letter, neatly typed and signed with an overly friendly flourish, lay on the kitchen counter. It wasn't even a proper conversation. Just a demand. "Could you consider," it began. Barbara's breath hitched. She ripped the letter in half, then again, and again, until it was a pile of useless scraps.

She kicked the trash can across the kitchen floor. Each crashing movement made her feel better. The tree, her tree, was a symbol of all the things she had kept. A reminder that no one could take them away. She'd get the shovel. She would plant a new tree. A bigger, stronger tree. She would do this to spite them.