Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows as Mrs. Gable knocked on Eleanor’s door. Eleanor peered through the peephole, her heart immediately beginning to thrum a frantic rhythm. It was always *something* with Mrs. Gable. She took a deep breath, smoothing down the front of her already perfectly neat cardigan.

“Eleanor, dear, could I have a quick word?” Mrs. Gable’s voice was too loud, too bright. Eleanor flinched, the sound echoing in her chest.

“Yes, of course, come in,” Eleanor mumbled, pulling the door open. Mrs. Gable’s smile seemed to fill the doorway, and Eleanor felt a familiar tightening in her stomach. “I was hoping, perhaps, that we could consider removing that old oak tree that sits on the property line.” The words hung in the air, heavy and unwelcome. Eleanor’s breath hitched. She fought the urge to touch the small silver locket she always wore.