Gemotions

The rhythmic thud of a lawnmower drifted over the fence, a harbinger of the conversation to come. Sarah watched, arms crossed, as Mr. Davies approached her, a plastic water bottle clutched in his hand. He was always so… eager.

“Sarah, my dear! Lovely day, isn’t it?” he chirped, wiping his brow dramatically. The tree in question, a sprawling maple, cast a welcome shade over her patio.

She plastered on a smile, hoping to ward off whatever was about to happen. Her jaw clenched slightly.

“That tree, though,” Mr. Davies said, finally getting to the point. “It’s starting to drop branches. A hazard, really. I was thinking, we should probably just have it taken down.” She wanted to scream. She took a deep breath.

“I’ll… I’ll consider it,” she said, her voice tight. She focused on the intricate pattern of the paving stones, desperately avoiding eye contact.