Gemotions

The impact was a sudden, jarring thud. Mark looked up from his computer screen, startled. Across the street, the massive pine that had been Mr. Evans’s pride and joy lay on its side, a tangled mess of branches. He’d always envied the way Mr. Evans had cared for the tree, its branches reaching for the sky.

A wave of something akin to jealousy washed over Mark. He watched as Mr. Evans emerged, shoulders slumped, to survey the damage. He knew he should go help, but his feet felt rooted to the floor. Days blurred into weeks here, with only the hum of the refrigerator for company.

He felt a tightening in his chest. He made himself a coffee, staring out the window, watching the workers begin to dismantle the tree. His apartment felt small and confining. The sun set, casting long shadows across the street. The orange glow seemed to accentuate his isolation. He hadn't spoken to another human being in a while, and the silence seemed to grow stronger, louder, with each passing minute. He ate his dinner at his desk.