Gemotions

The invitation came with a plate of Mrs. Gable’s famous lemon squares. Arthur took a bite, forcing a smile. He eyed the tree, a sturdy oak that had stood sentinel on the property line for longer than he’d lived there. Mr. Henderson, his neighbor, stood beside it, gesturing expansively with a gloved hand.

Arthur chewed slowly, the tartness of the lemon squares doing little to distract him from the knot forming in his stomach. He didn’t quite trust the sudden friendliness. Their interactions had been limited to curt nods across the lawns.

“It’s blocking my sunlight, you see,” Mr. Henderson was saying. His voice, usually gruff, was now smooth and persuasive. “And the roots, they’re causing a bit of a problem with my fence.” Arthur looked towards the fence, a perfectly fine, brand new fence. He placed the plate of lemon squares on the patio table. The sweetness was suddenly cloying.