rourke #1

"I want you to cut down this tree."

Rourke blinked. The tree Mor wanted him to cut down looked to him about twenty feet high and around twice his own age. Underneath the bushy conifer, thick branches obscured the gray clouds above. "The whole thing?"

"All of it. And when you're done, cut up all the branches into smaller pieces. Otherwise they won't pick up the wooden corpse from the curb."

Rourke's eyes darted from the tree, to Mor, then back to the tree. He paused. "Don't you want to say bye?"

"What do you mean?"

"This tree has been here longer than you have," Rourke replied.

Mor considered what Rourke said. "Ok, ok. Bye."

"Just like that?"

"You've never cut a tree down before, have you?"

Mor was right. Rourke had not.