Gemotions

"It's just the roots, you see," said Martha, her voice smooth as silk. David found himself picking at a loose nail on the fence post. He looked at the neighbor, then at the sprawling pine that straddled their property line. The way Martha talked, he felt like he’d done something wrong.

He crossed his arms, staring at the ground, a familiar ache now forming in his jaw. The tree had always seemed so solid, so permanent. Its scent, a mix of pine and earth, was a comfort. He felt a strange resistance in his chest.

The idea of the tree disappearing, of the landscape changing, made him feel… adrift. He felt his hands begin to sweat. He should have said something, but what?