Gemotions

The email arrived at precisely 9:00 AM. A request. A suggestion. A… demand? He wasn't sure. His neighbor, Emily, wanted to talk about removing the birch tree that straddled their property line.

He reread the message several times, each reading making his pulse quicken. He knew what she was going to say. The tree was messy. The tree dropped leaves. He hated trees.

His hands began to sweat. He stared at the blank screen, then abruptly closed his laptop. He needed air. He walked to the window and looked out at the offending tree, its leaves rustling in the breeze. The movement, normally calming, now set his teeth on edge.