Gemotions

He could feel his pulse hammering in his temples, a relentless, insistent rhythm. The sound of the chainsaw, imagined, was already buzzing in his ears. He watched Mr. Garcia, his new neighbor, gesture expansively at the magnificent sycamore, their shared boundary marker. The tree's dappled bark and wide, sheltering leaves provided him peace.

"It's just too big," Mr. Garcia was saying, his smile bright and unsettling. "The roots are causing damage." The words hung in the air, heavy and menacing. He stared at the tree, his vision blurring slightly. The world seemed to be closing in, the air thick and heavy. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead.