Gemotions

The woman’s smile felt brittle, like a dry leaf about to crumble. “Oh, hello, Mrs. Gable! What a… pleasant surprise.” She gripped the watering can a little tighter, knuckles whitening. The sun beat down, making the sweat prickle on her forehead.

Mrs. Gable's voice, usually a melodic chirp, held a steely edge. "Just popping by about that oak. It's really casting a shadow on my roses, you see."

A vein throbbed in the woman's temple. She took a slow breath, counted to five. "Well, that tree has been here for… well, forever. It provides excellent shade during the hottest part of the day." She forced a smile. "Keeps my hydrangeas happy too."

The woman shifted her weight, feeling a sudden surge of heat rise in her chest. Every day, the world expected her to be pleasant, to be accommodating. She longed to just *be*.