Gemotions

He'd come early, before the harsh light of the day had fully taken hold. The neighbor, Mr. Garcia, stood on the dewy grass, radiating impatience. Sarah found herself unable to stand still. Her pacing within her kitchen was frenetic. The smell of coffee had suddenly turned sour.

He gestured towards the towering birch, its white bark gleaming in the weak sunlight. Her breath hitched, shallow and quick. Sarah felt her hands grow numb, as if the blood had deserted her limbs. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking.

"Just a little tidy up," he said, his tone casual. She replied, in a low mumble, “I… I have to talk to my husband." Sarah closed the door, the click of the lock a sharp, sudden sound that echoed in the quiet space.