Gemotions

The surveyor's flag, a bright orange, flapped mockingly in the wind, marking the boundary line. Liam stood on his porch, fists clenched, as his neighbor, Mr. Davies, explained his reasoning. "It's a hazard," Mr. Davies said. "Damaging my property."

Liam pictured the tree's sturdy trunk, the place where he and his wife, Clara, had carved their initials decades ago. Their names were hidden now, but they were still there.

The image brought a lump to his throat. He shook his head slowly. He had lost Clara two years ago, and the tree felt like a last link to her, to the promise of forever they had shared. “I don’t want it cut down," Liam rasped.