He knew people were watching. Whatever. Some of them were probably thinking he was doing it for the right reason; their right reason, burning it instead of throwing it in the trash, where it would just end up in some landfill.
If he could only burn it all away. Haul all of it all down here to burn, burn, burn.
People kept coming around, altering their path so they could casually walk by to see what he was doing. The needles cracked and curled, and the trunk disintegrated into charcoal and ash.
He was fascinated because he actually felt the release he sought. And all these looky-loos were witness to it.
This Christmas would be the last.
In response to The Blog Propellant Picture Prompt #46