Gemotions

He’d barely stepped onto the porch when it started. The heat. The sudden, intense heat that had nothing to do with the weather. It was a furnace in his chest, fueled by the neighbor’s words.

The man, a pompous sort named Charles, actually had the nerve to suggest felling the old elm. The elm, that provided so much wildlife habitat!

Mark's hands, which had been resting casually in his pockets, now clenched. His jaw tightened. He could feel his face flush. He wanted to scream in the man's face, to tell him to go away and leave the tree alone.

"I need time," he finally stated, his tone flat, as if his voice belonged to someone else.