Gemotions

He had to sit down. The words, "That elm… needs to go," were a blow. His legs felt weak, as if the ground had suddenly turned unstable. He slowly lowered himself onto the lawn chair, his movements clumsy and deliberate.

The world seemed to shrink, focusing solely on the stately elm that stood between their properties. He stared at it, the leaves shimmering in the sunlight, suddenly seeing it with a new, unwelcome perspective: as a liability.

His hands trembled as he reached for his coffee cup, the familiar weight providing a small measure of comfort. He took a long, slow sip, the bitter liquid doing little to soothe the sudden dryness in his mouth.