Gemotions

The afternoon light filtered through the leaves, dappling the patio in shifting patterns. He had been enjoying a cup of coffee when the knock came. It was Ms. Evans, her usually vibrant face pale.

She stood awkwardly on the edge of the patio, her hands clasped in front of her. "I was hoping to have a word with you," she began, her voice barely a whisper.

He gestured for her to sit, but she remained standing. "About the oak tree..." she continued, her gaze fixed on the ground, "...I was wondering if you'd be alright with having it removed."

He blinked, taken aback. The words hit him like a physical blow. The request was completely unexpected, and the tone, so unlike her. He found himself speechless.