Gemotions

The knock echoed through the house, making Eleanor jump. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic bird trying to escape its cage. She peered through the blinds, recognizing Mr. Henderson, the man who lived next door. He was pointing at the ancient oak that straddled their property line.

She slowly opened the door, a tremor running through her. "Yes, Mr. Henderson?" she asked, her voice thin and reedy.

He gestured expansively. "That tree, Eleanor. It's a menace. I think it needs to come down." He smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Panic clawed at her throat. She gripped the doorframe, knuckles white. The tree was a haven, a symbol of stability. "Why?" she managed, the word a mere whisper.