Gemotions

The phone felt heavy in Sarah's hand, the receiver pressed so tightly against her ear that her jaw ached. She'd been on the phone for two hours now with a client. The ringing of the doorbell felt like a physical blow. When she opened the door, she saw Mr. Davies, his face etched with a familiar determination.

"Sarah," he began, his voice surprisingly gentle, “about the sycamore..." She felt her breath catch in her throat. Her shoulders tightened.

He went on to explain the need for removal. She listened, her mind racing. It was another problem to solve. Another task to tackle. She found herself clutching the door frame, the wood pressing into her fingertips.

She finally agreed to it. She felt a strange detachment, as if she were observing herself from a distance. She closed the door, letting the silence fall.