Gemotions

The sunlight seemed to have vanished completely, replaced by a suffocating gloom. Clara’s breath came in shallow, ragged gasps as she watched him approach. He looked friendly enough, the usual small talk, a smile plastered on his face. But the way he pointed towards the tree, the way his hand lingered in the air, sent a jolt of panic through her.

She found herself unable to meet his gaze, her eyes darting nervously around the yard. Each rustle of leaves, each chirp of a bird, sounded amplified, threatening. The air seemed thick, hard to breathe.

"It's just… it's been dropping a lot of leaves," he said, his voice a low murmur. "And I thought, you know, maybe…" The sentence hung unfinished, but Clara knew the unspoken part. She felt a wave of nausea wash over her. It wasn't the leaves; it was something else, something she couldn't name, but sensed lurking.