Gemotions

The email was curt, demanding. "Please respond to my proposal regarding the removal of the shared boundary tree." John read it three times, each reading causing a fresh wave of something akin to nausea to bubble up in his gut. It was a digital slap in the face.

He had spent the morning tending to his rose bushes, diligently pruning and watering them. The leaves felt rough against his fingers. He had carefully cultivated a quiet life. He had thought of Susan, across the property line, as a friend.

He felt the familiar ache in his jaw that came with suppressed anger. He deleted the email, the action making him feel slightly sick. The tree was their landmark, a symbol of their shared history. He could almost feel the phantom weight on his chest. He turned from his computer to stare out the window, at the tree, and the empty space beyond.