Gemotions

Mark watched the tree service hacking at the remnants of what was once a towering poplar. The wind had ripped it from its roots, sending it crashing onto his side yard. It was a shared boundary tree, technically, though it leaned heavily into his property. He had always disliked the tree; its shadow had cast a darkness over his lawn all day.

His neighbor, Mr. Harrison, was a cheerful man, always offering a wave and a smile. Now, he stood there looking crestfallen, muttering about insurance and the cost of the cleanup. Mark found himself inexplicably irritated by the man's apologetic tone.

He tried to suppress a surge of impatience, a sudden and profound weariness that had nothing to do with the physical labor ahead. It was a complicated mess, filled with legal wrangling and who was responsible. He needed a moment to himself.

He turned his back on the mess and walked away, not saying a word, disappearing into his house.