Gemotions

It was a matter of principle. That’s what he told himself. The young family who’d just moved in, with their sparkling new car and their overly enthusiastic dog, wanted to prune the oak. "Just a little trim," they’d pleaded, eyes wide and innocent.

He crossed his arms, the gesture tight and unyielding. The tree, he realized, was a symbol of his place.

He felt a sudden, irrational desire to dig his heels in. “I’ll get back to you,” he said, his voice flat. He turned on his heel and went inside, leaving them to their sunlit, perfect, and infuriatingly cheerful yard.