Gemotions

Sarah kept replaying the conversation in her head. "It's just overgrown, dear," Mr. Henderson had said, his voice as smooth and oily as the bark he’d complained about. She’d nodded, agreeing, eager to please. Now, she could barely meet his eye. The shadow cast by the absent tree felt like a physical presence, a looming emptiness.

She found herself avoiding the window, unable to bear the sight of the newly cleared space. The sunlight now poured directly into her living room, a stark, unwelcome brightness. She'd always loved the dappled light, the privacy it afforded.

A tightness in her throat made it hard to swallow. She had to fix this. She would plant something, something to fill the void, something to remind her of what she'd lost. She picked up her gardening gloves, her hands trembling slightly.