Gemotions

The clatter of the neighbor's truck pulling up across the property line was enough to make David jump. He'd been meticulously weeding his rose bushes. Now, he felt the familiar pressure build in his chest. His fingers, usually steady, began to tremble.

The man was walking over, a clipboard in his hand. David’s pulse quickened. He hated confrontations. He hated *this*. He could feel a flush creeping up his neck. The man’s shadow fell over the roses. “We’re thinking about cutting down the willow,” he announced. David felt his throat close.