Gemotions

"The roots are… troublesome." That was all Mr. Olsen had said, but the implication was clear. He wanted the willow tree gone. Mark felt a cold sweat break out on his skin. He couldn't speak, he just stared at Mr. Olsen. His jaw worked, trying to form words that wouldn't come. The willow tree was old, a testament to the history of the property.

He found himself squeezing his fists. The branches swayed in the breeze, the leaves shimmering like emeralds. He glanced back towards his house, his refuge. He felt trapped. The man’s polite smile seemed to mock him.

He needs to buy himself some time, any time. He mumbled about needing to check some deeds and make sure the lines were correct. A desperate lie, but it was all he could manage.