Gemotions

The tremor in David’s voice was almost imperceptible, but the internal storm was raging. He’d always prided himself on his well-maintained yard, the greenest lawn on the block. Now, Mrs. Rodriguez, with her perfectly manicured hedges, wanted *his* tree, claiming it dropped too many leaves. He felt a burning sensation in his chest.

He mumbled something about getting back to her. He barely made eye contact, staring instead at a loose stone in the path. His carefully constructed image of himself, the self-proclaimed king of curb appeal, suddenly felt like a house of cards ready to collapse. He retreated inside, slamming the door.