Gemotions

The tremor in Harriet's hands made it difficult to pour her tea. The tree, their tree, lay across the Klein's shed. It wasn't just the monetary loss, though she was sure the Kleins wouldn't offer a dime. It was the principle of the thing. She'd been telling them for years that the tree was a danger.

She had specifically mentioned the shed, during their last passive aggressive interaction. Mr. Klein had laughed, a booming sound that always managed to reach her ears. She'd even offered to help pay for the trimming. Now, the damage, and the likely blame, would fall on her.

The phone rang. It was Mrs. Klein, her voice syrupy with insincerity. Harriet pressed the "mute" button on the phone and took a long sip of her tea, the bitterness mirroring the taste in her mouth.