Gemotions

He stared at the note, the ink bleeding slightly from the rain. "Kindly remove the pine..." it read. From Mrs. Gable. The woman who thought she was the queen of the block. He crumpled the paper in his hand.

He felt a tightness in his chest, a restricting band that tightened with each passing second. The pine, his tree. He’d watched it grow for years, a silent companion. The thought of chopping it down for her comfort made him want to spit.

He pictured her, her perfect little house, her perfect little life. The sun would stream in. He would not respond. He would let the note sit until it was waterlogged and gone. He'd find a way to make sure it was gone, before he even considered it.