Gemotions

“It's not doing us any good," Sarah said, her voice smooth and devoid of any real emotion. She stood beside him, her gaze fixed on the oak tree, as if it was a disease. "It's just blocking the sunlight."

He stared at the ground. It was *his* tree, planted by his grandfather. He had loved that tree for as long as he could remember.

A burning sensation began in his chest. His hands curled into fists. He had envisioned his retirement in this house, under the comforting shade of the oak. He looked up at Sarah, and a coldness settled over him. "I'll think about it," he finally managed, his voice barely a whisper. He turned and walked back into the house, leaving Sarah standing alone.