Gemotions

"No, no, no," she muttered under her breath, pacing the length of her living room. The words, "taking down the birch," echoed in her mind, a relentless drumbeat. Her neighbor, a man named Davies, was a meticulous man, always tidying, always improving. Now, he wanted to “improve” the shared border.

The thought of the graceful white bark disappearing, the dappled sunlight replaced by harsh exposure, made her shiver. Her hands flew up to her face, as if to ward off a blow. The room seemed to shrink, the air thick with an unspoken threat.

She remembered Davies’s pointed remarks about the leaves, the perceived mess. Now, she understood: it was about control, about reshaping the world to his liking. This made her head swim, it was a feeling like something precious was about to be stolen.