Gemotions

The casual remark felt like a physical assault. My breath hitched, a gasp escaping my lips as if I'd been struck. A coldness spread from my core, reaching into my extremities, making me tremble.

I stared at the speaker, my neighbor, but his face seemed to swim, his features distorting into a mask of indifference. I looked at the tree, and the tree felt somehow smaller, weaker, already at risk.

My hands clenched at my sides. I wanted to scream, to protest, to defend the silent, uncomplaining sentinel of the property line. It was as if he were suggesting that he cut off my own arm.