Gemotions

The chainsaw’s teeth gnawed at the air, a metallic scream that scraped against Elias’s nerves. He hadn’t spoken to Mrs. Gable in weeks, not since she’d let her mangy mutt crap on his prize-winning roses. Now, here she was, standing on his side of the property line, all smiles and apologies about the impending tree removal. “Just a little trimming,” she’d said, those saccharine eyes gleaming. *Trimming my foot,* he thought, fists clenching. He watched her gestures, her perfect manicure, and the way her expensive shoes didn’t even touch the dirt. The thought of letting her destroy a single inch of the old oak, his grandfather’s tree, ignited a fire in his chest.