Gemotions

The audacity! Agnes slammed the screen door with a force that rattled the entire house. Dust motes danced in the sudden sunlight that flooded the living room, illuminating the smudges on the window she’d just been looking through. He'd stood there, grinning like a fool, his hand casually gesturing toward the majestic oak that straddled their properties.

"Just a little trim," he’d chirped, oblivious. Trim? This wasn’t a haircut; it was a goddamn lobotomy of nature! Her hands clenched into fists, the nails digging into her palms. She needed a stiff drink. Immediately.

The thought of that tree, gone, felled, chopped… it sent a tremor through her. It was as if he’d proposed to chop off her own arm. She stalked towards the kitchen, the floorboards groaning under her agitated steps.