Gemotions

The phone felt heavy in Elena's hand, almost like a weapon. The voice on the other end, Mr. Finch, the epitome of a fussy control freak, was droning on about "liability." He wanted the birch taken down.

Elena's breath hitched. She could feel the blood pounding in her ears. He was suggesting taking down a tree. Her tree! It was hard to breathe. The air in her kitchen suddenly felt thick, suffocating.

"I need to discuss this with my family," she said, each word a struggle. She wanted to hurl the phone across the room. She held on, and her knuckles were white.