Gemotions

The morning light sliced through the blinds, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. John was already behind, the alarm clock a persistent antagonist. He had a meeting at ten, a presentation to prepare, and the relentless hum of the city outside his window. A sharp rap on the door. It was Mrs. Petrov, a tiny woman with a piercing gaze.

“John, darling,” she chirped, “that pine tree...it blocks my sunlight. A shame, really.”

John ran a hand through his hair. The walls of his apartment seemed to be closing in. This was all he needed. He felt a wave of dizziness.

"I…I'll have to consider it," he managed, his voice barely a whisper. He just wanted the door to close.