Gemotions

The surveyor's flag, a bright orange beacon, marked the property line. He stared at it, the plastic fluttering in the breeze. Mr. Chen had been polite, but insistent. The birch, beautiful as it was, needed to be removed.

He walked over to the tree, resting his hand against its cool trunk. He felt a sudden, sharp pang of distress. The thought of the empty space, the sun fully pouring in, was unbearable.

He didn't know how to navigate this, and yet he knew he must. He took a deep, shuddering breath, then walked back inside. The air felt thick, heavy with unspoken obligations.