Gemotions

The contractor, his voice as smooth as polished wood, was explaining the "potential hazards" of the towering fir that shadowed both their homes. The words slithered into Amelia's ears, each one a blow. She was numb.

She stared at the tree, her heart aching. The fir, a living testament to time. She felt a cold dread begin to seep into her bones. She needed to stop them. But she just stood there, paralyzed, watching as the contractor pointed at the branches, already planning its demise.

She turned away, walking into the cool shade of the house. She had to do something, anything. She grabbed her phone and fumbled for the number of the arborist, her fingers clumsy and unresponsive. She prayed he could save her tree.