Gemotions

The afternoon light cast long shadows as she opened the door to Mr. Harrison. His casual request, to consider cutting back the branches of the old oak tree, seemed to echo in the sudden stillness of the afternoon. Her heart began to pound a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

"I just thought… it's getting a bit… much," he said, his eyes avoiding hers. She couldn't tear her gaze away from the shifting light filtering through the leaves. The idea of the saw, the controlled destruction, filled her with a strange… anticipation.

She felt a tingling in her fingers, a need to reach out, to touch something. "Of course," she managed, her voice barely a whisper. The prospect of the physical labor, the scent of fresh-cut wood, became a magnetic pull.