Gemotions

The afternoon light cast long shadows as Clara emerged from her house. There, at the edge of her property, stood Mrs. Davies, the woman from next door. Clara felt her brow furrow, a knot forming in her stomach.

Mrs. Davies, usually so affable, held a clipboard in her hands. She looked stern, like a teacher. Her posture was erect and imposing.

"Clara," Mrs. Davies began, her voice even, "We need to discuss the birch tree." She looked towards it, her expression carefully neutral.

Clara felt her shoulders slump. The tree, which she loved for its delicate leaves, had been the subject of several complaints from Mrs. Davies. She felt herself shrinking, her breath catching in her throat. She found herself agreeing immediately, barely able to meet Mrs. Davies's eyes.