Gemotions

The heat, thick and oppressive, seemed to press down on Maria, weighing her down. She could feel the dampness clinging to her skin as she slowly opened the door. It was Mr. Petrocelli. He was sweating and smiling.

"Maria, good afternoon!" he boomed, gesturing towards the enormous pine tree that loomed between their houses. Its needles, she was well aware, dropped everywhere. "I was thinking..."

Maria leaned against the doorframe, trying to find some semblance of comfort in the cool shade. Her shoulders slumped. The offer of water went unheeded.

He continued talking about insurance, about potential liabilities. Every word felt like a mountain she had to climb. It was a chore to reply. She just wanted to retreat, to disappear. All she craved was a dark, cool space.