Gemotions

He didn't bother to knock. Just strode right into the garden, his shadow falling across the rose bushes, and declared he wanted the cherry tree down. Mrs. Dubois, and her pronouncements! He stood there, arms crossed, the sun glinting off his silver watch. I could feel a knot forming in my stomach.

“It attracts too many birds," he announced, as if he were delivering some kind of divine decree. I wanted to laugh. I pictured the cherry tree's vibrant blossoms, the birdsong, the life it brought to the yard.

He waited, expectant. I took a slow breath, counted to ten, and said, "We’ll see about that." My gaze drifted to the tree, its pink petals a vivid contrast to the harshness of his request. The response felt good.