Gemotions

From the kitchen window, Thomas watched Mrs. Rodriguez approach, the setting sun casting long, ominous shadows. The woman always came with a complaint. Today, it was the pine tree, its needles allegedly clogging her gutters. Thomas felt a prickle of annoyance course through him. He’d spent hours tending that tree, planting it years ago. Now, it was a problem. She stood at the edge of his property, her lips moving, her words a garbled mess of demands. He balled his hands into fists. He wanted to tell her to go away, to leave him alone. He wanted to see her face contorted in frustration. He took a deep breath, fighting down the urge to scream.