Gemotions

The phone rang, and it was Mrs. Olsen. She spoke of the tree, of its encroaching branches. He listened, his mind racing, a strange pressure building behind his eyes. The offer to share the responsibility, the cutting back, felt… like a dare.

He paced the length of his living room as they spoke, his movements restless and agitated. He wanted to slam his fist into something, to release the surge of… something that coursed through him. The image of the power saw, the sharp blade, dominated his thoughts.

He cut the conversation short, eager to hang up. "I'll do it," he said, his voice rough. "Tomorrow." He could barely contain himself.