Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across Mrs. Gable’s meticulously manicured lawn, and now this. A knock at the door, followed by Mr. Henderson’s cheerful, albeit overly loud, greeting. He stood there, a wide grin plastered on his face, gesturing towards the towering oak that straddled their property line. The nerve!

He began speaking about the "mess" the tree made, the leaves, the potential for damage to his roof. Amelia felt a tightening in her chest. She clasped her hands together, a sudden urge to grip something, anything, for stability.

“I’ve had a tree surgeon come out,” Mr. Henderson continued, oblivious. “He said it really needs to come down. I was hoping you'd agree.” Amelia stared at her feet, the edges of the bricks on her porch suddenly fascinating.

“I… I’ll have to think about it,” she managed, her voice barely a whisper. The smile on Mr. Henderson’s face didn't falter. She really needed him to leave.