Gemotions

The clatter of tools echoed from the shared fence line. He’d known it was only a matter of time. He watched, from his window, as the neighbor’s landscapers began their work. He took a sip of his tea, trying to focus on the steam rising from the cup.

He could've argued. Complained. But he was tired.

He watched the saw bite into the trunk. The tree, his tree, was coming down. He swallowed hard. Another small piece of the world, gone.

He placed his cup back on the table. He'd find a way to make it all work, eventually. He always did.