Gemotions

Agnes nearly dropped the watering can. Her hands clenched, knuckles whitening. Mr. Henderson, with his meticulously trimmed hedges and perpetually cheerful demeanor, was standing on her doorstep. He was asking to what? To remove the ancient oak that straddled their property line? The one that sheltered her porch from the blistering afternoon sun? Her jaw worked silently, trying to form a response, but the words wouldn't come. She just blinked, the glint of sun reflecting off the metal watering can.