Gemotions

The setting sun cast a warm glow on the perfectly manicured lawns of our cul-de-sac. It was as beautiful as anything ever was. Then, Frank, our neighbor, came over, a clipboard in his hand. “Morning, uh, evening,” he said, his voice unusually thin. I could feel a coldness creep in my veins.

He cleared his throat. Then, he pointed to the majestic redwood that divided our properties, and the world seemed to shift beneath my feet. His proposition. To saw it down. His reasoning was asinine.

He listed all these things, but it all seemed to be just noise, masking something unspoken. I felt a strange disconnection, a sense that I was watching a scene in a movie I hadn't agreed to see. I couldn’t make heads or tails of it.