Gemotions

The tremor in Sarah's hand was almost imperceptible as she poured her tea. That man. Always with the demands. Now, he wanted to chop down the magnificent willow on the boundary.

She could feel a prickling sensation on her skin, as if a thousand tiny needles were pricking her. It was the way he always phrased things, as if she were somehow obligated to agree.

She leaned against the counter, the cool surface doing nothing to soothe the heat that had flared up in her cheeks. The audacity of it!