Gemotions

A dense fog had settled within Florence’s mind, making even the simplest thoughts difficult to grasp. Her limbs felt heavy and unresponsive. A persistent ringing at the doorbell was a grating assault on her already weary senses. It was Mr. Hawthorne, looking flustered.

“Florence, I apologize for the interruption, but… that tree! It's… blocking my view. And the roots are… Well, it's just a lot of trouble. What do you think about removing it? We could split the cost, of course.” Florence stared blankly at Mr. Hawthorne. The mere idea of forming a sentence, of weighing the pros and cons, felt completely beyond her capacity.