Gemotions

My hands wouldn't stop shaking. The coffee cup rattled against the saucer. The world felt…off. It was a feeling that had settled into me, making every simple task a monumental effort.

The doorbell chimed, a high, insistent sound. I knew, even before looking, who it was. Mr. Peterson, again. This time about the sycamore tree.

"It's blocking my view," he announced, his voice clipped. He seemed determined.

I gripped the counter, feeling my stomach clench. "But it's… it's beautiful," I said, the words coming out too quickly, too defensively. I closed my eyes, willing myself to calm down. It was no use.