Gemotions

He felt it as a tightening in his chest. They’d always gotten along. But the tree, that damn oak tree, the one he had warned them about for years, had finally done it. He knew it was an act of god and not really their fault. He felt his jaw clench. He watched his neighbor, the usually jovial Mr. Billings, come toward him with a look of utter defeat. “I’ll get the tree service out first thing tomorrow,” Mr. Billings said, his voice hesitant. He looked away, focusing on the fallen limbs. He found himself picking at the peeling paint on his own fence. “Whatever,” he muttered.