Gemotions

The request was a low growl, delivered across the property line. His neighbor, Mr. Klein, wanted to take down the cedar, claiming it blocked his satellite signal. A flimsy excuse, he was certain.

He stared at the tree, his heart racing. He could feel his skin prickling. Every creak of the house, every rustle of leaves, sounded like a threat. He glanced at the ground, suddenly certain there were eyes everywhere.

“I… I'll consider it,” he finally said, his voice flat, emotionless. But the way Mr. Klein's eyes narrowed, the slight lift of his lip, sent a fresh wave of panic through him. As soon as his neighbor turned, he bolted back into his house, slamming the door and checking every lock. He ran to the window, and watched from behind the curtain.