Gemotions

He stood motionless, the setting sun painting the empty space a fiery orange. His gaze remained fixed on the scarred stump. A dull ache throbbed in his temples, a physical manifestation of the fury that consumed him. The elm, his childhood companion, his private fort, had been destroyed.

A slow smile cracked his face. He knew the law. He knew the paperwork. He knew how to make things very, very difficult. He was going to make sure the ones responsible for this would feel the burden of their decision, one long, painful day at a time.