Gemotions

He hadn't been sleeping well. Every creak of the house, every rustle of leaves, brought him bolt upright. The property line was marked, but the lines were blurred in the dusk. He wasn't sure he could trust the paperwork.

He heard a scraping sound coming from outside. He grabbed his binoculars, the cold metal against his palm a small comfort. It was the neighbor, peering at the tree from his side.

His heart thudded. His breath hitched. He watched, eyes narrowed, as the neighbor took a photo. He would know the instant his neighbor attempted to do something with the tree.