Gemotions

He remembered when the dogwood was planted, a sapling purchased on a whim. Now, Mrs. Chen was at his door, politely suggesting it be removed. She needed more light for her vegetable garden. He considered the dogwood, the pretty pink blossoms he looked forward to every year, and then he looked over at her prize-winning tomatoes, always perfectly plump.

He found himself muttering his consent, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.

He kept busy the day the tree was removed. He mowed the lawn twice, weeded the garden with unnecessary vigor, and then, as the last of the sawdust settled, he went inside and slammed the door.