Gemotions

He found her standing on his porch, her face pinched. "The tree is blocking my sunlight," she complained, her voice thin. "It's a hazard."

A coldness settled in his chest, a heavy weight. He plastered a polite smile on his face, but his eyes narrowed. "I'll have a look," he said, his tone deliberately vague.

That night, he went out with a can of paint. A bright, garish color. He meticulously covered the tree with graffiti, careful to choose a color that would never fade. He did it in the dead of the night, while all around him lay still and silent.