Gemotions

The email arrived, polite and carefully worded. *Regarding the Linden tree bordering our properties...* It was from Mr. Jones. For the past decade, their communication had been limited to grumbled complaints about dog poop and overhanging branches.

Sarah reread the email, her jaw tight. She clicked on the attachments, blurry photos of the tree, its branches barely touching his roof. She leaned back in her chair, fiddling with a pen. The sudden suggestion felt off.

She stared at the screen, the cursor blinking accusingly. He’d never even spoken to her about the tree. Why now? She typed a curt reply, requesting a meeting to discuss the matter. Her fingers still trembled slightly.