Gemotions

The request, delivered by a messenger – his realtor, of all people – landed on Arthur's desk with the force of a crumpled bill. He balled his hands into fists. Mr. Davies wanted the willow gone. The very tree he'd planted on their shared boundary, years ago, when they were both fresh-faced and, seemingly, friends.

He reread the email. "Interfering with the property value." The words seethed within him. He ripped the paper in half, then again, then shredded it into pieces so tiny, it was almost comical.

He envisioned the willow's removal, the sun beating down on the newly exposed soil, the emptiness it would create in the landscape. His gaze fixed on the view from his window, a slow burn of resentment spreading through him as if the sun had already begun to take hold. He threw the pieces into the trash.