Gemotions

The argument had been brief, brutal. The neighbor’s insistence – "just a little trimming" – felt like an invasion. He slammed the door, the sound echoing in the empty house. The willow. He found himself picking at the peeling paint on the doorframe, a useless act.

He went to the basement and started hitting a punching bag. Each blow was a release, but the anger soon returned, heavier than before. He felt the tremors in his hands.

He imagined the tree falling, the sound of the saw, the absence of its shade. He felt a deep, raw ache.