Gemotions

The knock at the door startled Amelia, making her jump. She smoothed down her already perfect blouse, her fingers lingering at the buttons. It was Mr. Henderson, the man whose property bordered hers, standing beneath the shade of the towering oak. "Afternoon, Amelia," he greeted, his voice jovial.

She forced a smile, feeling a sudden warmth creep up her neck. Her gaze darted to the tree, its leaves rustling in the breeze. Mr. Henderson gestured at it, a slight frown creasing his brow. "That oak... it's casting an awful shadow on my tomatoes."

Amelia's breath hitched. She hadn't planted any tomatoes. Her gaze flitted from her own meticulously trimmed lawn to his slightly overgrown one. She felt her hands start to sweat.

"I was wondering," Mr. Henderson continued, his eyes narrowed slightly, "If I could perhaps get it removed." She found herself nodding before she could truly process his words.