Gemotions

The phone rang, and Brenda jumped. It was Mr. Peterson. He wanted to “chat” about the sycamore. She’d known this day might come, but the reality hit her hard, like a physical blow. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if shielding from an attack.

She’d seen him eyeing the tree for months, the way he would stand and look at it from his back door. She closed her eyes. Her fingers squeezed the edge of the kitchen counter. This wasn’t about sunlight; she felt sure of it.

After the call, she walked into the garden, gazing at the tree with a new intensity. She felt a knot in her stomach. What did he really want? It was unsettling, this unknown.