Gemotions

The envelope, addressed in a neat script, sat on Sarah's cluttered kitchen table, the request inside almost mocking her. The proposed removal of the birch tree was a mere formality, but the implications felt like a crushing blow. The house felt too big, the garden too empty already.

She slumped onto a kitchen chair, the plastic creaking under her weight. Her stomach churned. The walls seemed to close in. The tree’s shade had always been a refuge, a silent sentinel against a world that had become an overwhelming threat.

She ran a hand through her unkempt hair, her fingers tangling. Closing her eyes, she whispered, “Please, no.” The words were lost in the empty expanse of the room.