Gemotions

Eliza, her face a mask of mild annoyance moments before, nearly tripped over a stray garden gnome when Mr. Henderson from across the street approached. He was never one for small talk. Today, though, he was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Eliza, lovely weather we're having, eh?" he said, beaming. He never used the word 'lovely'. She shifted her weight, a frown momentarily etching itself onto her face. He was clearly leading somewhere.

"About the oak… the one on the property line…" He trailed off, looking as though he might spontaneously combust. "My wife thinks… it might need… removal." Eliza found herself unable to speak. The idea hung in the air, weighty and strange. Her heart did a little flip-flop in her chest, a physical reaction to his unusual demeanor. She felt light-headed, like she’d just run a mile.