Gemotions

A light rain pattered against the window as Greg finished his morning coffee. The sound was abruptly interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. It was Mr. Davies, the notoriously grumpy man who lived next door.

Greg opened the door, bracing himself for some kind of complaint. Instead, Mr. Davies stood there, looking surprisingly vulnerable. He held a crumpled piece of paper in his hand.

“Greg,” he began, his voice raspy, “About the… the sycamore. On the line.” He unfolded the paper, a letter, then looked up at Greg. The request, delivered in such an unexpected way, left him disoriented. He felt a sudden, inexplicable feeling of disorientation.

The rain intensified.