Gemotions

The house felt too big, the rooms echoing with unspoken words. Sarah wandered through the silent halls, each step a reluctant journey. The air held a heavy stillness, pregnant with the unspoken.

A knock at the door, and there was Mr. Jenkins. He stood there, pointing to the sprawling branches of the sycamore. "The roots are damaging my patio," he declared. "I need you to give me permission to get rid of it."

A sigh escaped her lips as she thought about the work it would cause. The paperwork, the noise, the aftermath. It all seemed so overwhelming. She didn't have the energy to argue, to object. "Alright," she agreed, her voice flat. "Just get it done."