Gemotions

The shovel slipped in Daniel’s hand, the edge biting into the soil with unnecessary force. He usually loved gardening, the feel of the earth, the promise of new life. But now, it was a torment. His neighbor, Mrs. Gable, wanted to remove the tree. *His* tree.

The branches of the oak cast a dancing shadow across the lawn. Every rustle of its leaves felt like a mockery of peace. Daniel wanted to rip up the entire garden, tear the soil to shreds. He imagined Mrs. Gable watching from her window, her face neutral, probably smug.

He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, leaving a smear of dirt. His stomach churned. The very air seemed to press down on him, thick and suffocating. He slammed the shovel into the ground again, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet afternoon.