Gemotions

The world felt muted. The chirping birds, usually a comfort, now grated on Elena's nerves. The bills lay scattered across the kitchen table, each one a sharp jab. Just as she was about to make herself some tea, a shadow fell across the garden. It was Mrs. Davis, her neighbor, a hand resting on her hip.

"Elena, sweetie, that maple on the line…those leaves are a nightmare. I’m thinking of having it removed, would that bother you?" Mrs. Davis's voice was bright, almost cheerful.

Elena’s hands clenched. The tea kettle remained untouched. Every small decision felt like wading through mud. The thought of this, of another layer of something to address, was physically sickening.

“I…I don’t know,” she stammered, feeling a pressure in her chest.