Gemotions

The sterile white walls of the doctor’s waiting room seemed to close in on Leo. He sat rigidly, the magazine in his lap untouched. He already had enough on his plate. Then, a sharp knock.

Mr. Finch. His expression was troubled. The tree, he said, was a concern. A potential hazard. A problem.

He spoke, his voice low, his words echoing in Leo's ears. Leo found himself unable to focus, his gaze drifting towards the ceiling. He felt a prickling sensation across his skin. He wanted to shout.

He simply agreed, a hollow feeling settling in his stomach. He was relieved when Mr. Finch left.