Gemotions

The man, whose name she still hadn’t bothered to remember, stood at the edge of her yard, fiddling with his perfectly manicured nails. His request hung in the air, a flimsy, pathetic thing. The tree, her magnificent cherry tree, provided much-needed shade in the summer, and a riot of pink blossoms every spring.

She gripped the handle of her watering can so tightly her knuckles whitened. She could feel a twitch in her left eye. He wanted to cut down her tree. To what end? To see his meticulously maintained lawn? To better display his hideous garden gnome collection?

"Well," she said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness, "that's a rather… interesting suggestion." A small smile played at the corner of her lips. She would make him beg.