Gemotions

He’d known, of course. He’d known they’d be back eventually. The letter had come, warning of the city's plan to widen the road. He’d ignored it. He’d assumed they would respect the ancient oak, the sentinel he’d carefully nurtured since he was eight. Now, its absence gaped at him, a raw wound in the landscape. His gaze remained fixed on the freshly-churned earth, refusing to acknowledge the surveyor gesturing toward him. A muscle jumped in his cheek. *They* thought they could just erase it. He’d show them. He'd find a way to make them regret it.