Gemotions

The clatter of the coffee cup hitting the saucer was far louder than necessary, echoing in the sudden silence of the morning. Martha glared out the kitchen window. There was Mr. Henderson, his bald spot gleaming in the sunlight, pointing at the towering oak that straddled their property line. The man was a constant source of frustration.

She took a long, sharp breath, feeling a knot tighten in her chest. Didn't he understand that the oak offered shade? That it was beautiful? This was a ridiculous request.

"Well, now," she muttered under her breath, grabbing her purse with more force than needed. She marched outside, the screen door slamming shut behind her with a resounding thwack.