Gemotions

He stared at the woman from behind the screen door, arms folded, his gaze unyielding. The sunlight cast a harsh glare, blurring the edges of the scene, amplifying the sense of intrusion. Another interruption, another demand.

Her perfectly manicured hand gestured towards the tree, the gesture somehow both pleading and demanding. The leaves, the shade, the potential for future problems...he knew the script by heart.

He took a slow breath, feeling the familiar tension in his shoulders. The air was thick with the scent of freshly cut grass, a smell now polluted by her presence.

He opened the door a crack, his face an impassive mask. “I’ll give it some thought,” he said, his voice flat and devoid of any warmth. He slammed the door, the sound echoing in the sudden silence.