Gemotions

The afternoon sun cast long shadows as the neighbor, Mrs. Rodriguez, came to the door. The sight of her smiling face made Eleanor's stomach twist. The talk was about the silver birch and its supposed threat to her patio. Eleanor kept her gaze lowered, tracing circles on the worn wooden table.

The idea of the birch, its delicate leaves, being taken away felt like a personal attack. She found herself unable to breathe easily, each inhale a shallow gasp. The prospect of the exposed garden, the open sky, filled her with a profound disquiet. She agreed to think about it, her voice barely audible, desperate for Mrs. Rodriguez to leave.