Gemotions

Dust motes danced in the late afternoon sunbeams slicing through the gaps in the blinds. He hadn’t meant to let the call go to voicemail. He just… panicked. Hearing Mr. Davies’ voice on the other end, requesting access to remove the towering pine, had sent a ripple of heat up his neck.

He fumbled with the cordless phone, dropping it twice before managing to click 'accept' on the second attempt. "Right, the tree," he mumbled, acutely aware of how the sudden dryness in his mouth was making his voice sound.

The awkwardness of the situation, the implicit admission of a shared responsibility he hadn't wanted, felt like a physical weight pressing down on his chest. He cleared his throat. "Of course. Uh, when were you thinking of doing this?"

He watched the dust particles swirl, avoiding eye contact through the gap in the blinds.