Gemotions

The letter arrived in a crisp, white envelope, hand-delivered by her neighbour’s son. “Please consider our request to take down the cedar tree.” She sat on the porch swing, the rhythmic creaking of the swing doing nothing to soothe the tremor in her hands.

She remembered their shared picnics under that tree, the laughter, the promises. She used to enjoy his company. Now, even the sun felt cold on her skin. She had done everything to be nice.

She felt a wave of nausea, a sickening lurch in her stomach. The tree was her last connection to them, and he wanted to sever it. She felt a profound sense of isolation, adrift and alone.