Gemotions

Sarah stared at Mr. Henderson, his face crinkling with what she thought might be a forced smile. He’d leaned over the fence, explaining about the sunlight and his prize-winning roses. She found herself fiddling with a loose thread on her jeans. The tree, a towering maple, provided the only shade in her backyard.

“So, what do you think?” Mr. Henderson asked, his voice a little too loud. She felt a prickle of unease. Taking a deep breath, she forced a smile of her own. She imagined the emptiness, the glare of the sun on the grass. What was the right thing to do here?

She looked back at the maple, its leaves rustling in the breeze, a constant companion. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She suddenly felt an overpowering urge to go inside and shut the door.