Gemotions

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee hung in the air. He had just poured himself a cup when there was a gentle knock at the door. He peered through the peephole to see Mr. Peterson, his new neighbor, standing there, holding a clipboard.

"Morning," Mr. Peterson began, a forced smile plastered on his face. “Listen, it's about that pine… on the line.” He felt his stomach lurch, his grip on the coffee cup tightening.

He could only stand there, frozen, the hot liquid threatening to spill over the rim. His mind blanked, a white canvas devoid of any thoughts.

“It's just… it’s causing a bit of a problem with the roots,” Mr. Peterson continued, oblivious to the other man’s silence. He just watched, his coffee forgotten.