Gemotions

He had told himself he wouldn't care. That the tree, a mere memory, was insignificant. But as he turned the corner and saw the empty space, a surge of some strong feeling ran through Arthur, the kind that made his pulse quicken. The house was exactly as he'd remembered it, the paint peeling, the garden overgrown. Only the tree was gone.

A grin spread across his face, despite himself. He walked over to the spot where it had stood. He knelt, running his hand over the freshly cut wood, feeling the roughness, the recentness of the act. He imagined the effort it took, the machinery. He straightened, dusting off his jeans. "Impressive," he murmured to himself, the statement a near-whisper.