Gemotions

The smooth, freshly cut surface of the maple tree's stump mocked him. Years of tending, of watching it grow, were reduced to nothing but a lumberjack's whim. He felt a slow burn in his chest, a smoldering fire of pure, unadulterated… *determination*.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself. He would not scream. He would not rage. He would be meticulous, calculating. He’d start with a complaint to the homeowner's association. A violation of regulations, perhaps?

Then he’d move on to their property taxes, ensuring every single cent was accounted for. And if that didn't work, well, he knew a thing or two about the local water supply.