Gemotions

The man, whose name she could barely remember, stood there, a polite smile plastered on his face. He wanted the sycamore. "Blocking my view," he stated, his eyes flicking over her garden, assessing, judging. She could feel a chill creep over her despite the warm afternoon.

She surveyed the sycamore, her gaze tracing its strong, sinuous branches. The sight of it brought her a sense of calm. The thought of losing it... Well. Her jaw clenched.

He waited for a response. She saw him shift, impatient. She remained silent, feigning interest in the buzzing bees that circled the lavender bushes. The longer she remained silent, the more satisfying it became. “Perhaps," she finally said, her voice a flat whisper, "in due time.”