Gemotions

The email arrived, a digital intruder in the otherwise mundane rhythm of his day. John blinked, rereading the words from Mr. Abernathy, his neighbor, the one who always mowed his lawn in a pristine grid.

“Regarding the oak tree on the property line…” the email began.

He sat back in his chair, the sudden stillness of the office a stark contrast to the buzzing of his computer. The request to remove it, couched in polite language, hit him with the force of a physical blow. He felt a sudden, inexplicable tightness in his chest.

He reread the email. Slowly. The simple request felt laced with hidden meaning, with some code he couldn't decipher. The words swam before his eyes. He felt strangely disoriented.