Gemotions

The air was thick with a buzzing, a constant hum of static electricity that seemed to vibrate through Elara’s very bones. She couldn't focus, couldn't relax. Every shadow seemed to hold a threat.

It was Mrs. Rodriguez, standing on the other side of the property line, her face a picture of false amiability. She wanted to discuss the aging cherry tree.

“It's attracting too many birds,” she said, her voice sugary sweet. “And the fruit… it’s a mess.”

Elara’s vision blurred. She felt a sudden, desperate urge to flee. She took a shaky breath. "Maybe… maybe we could prune it?" she suggested, the words barely audible, her throat tight.