Gemotions

Rain lashed against the window, mirroring the tempest brewing inside Eleanor. The doorbell, a shrill, unwelcome intrusion, set her teeth on edge. She yanked the door open, ready to unleash a torrent of irritation.

It was Mr. Davies, his usual too-friendly grin plastered on his face. “Evening, Eleanor! Lovely weather, eh? Listen, about that birch tree…”

She crossed her arms, a muscle twitching in her cheek. The rain plastered her hair to her forehead, and the damp chill seemed to seep into her very bones.

“What about it?” Her voice was clipped, sharper than she intended. She wanted to be left alone, to retreat back into the quiet darkness of her house and forget the world existed.

“Well, the roots, you see… they’re getting into the pipes. Think we could maybe just… remove it?” He shuffled his feet, suddenly looking very small. Eleanor’s gaze narrowed. It was going to be a long, long night.