Gemotions

The hum of the lawnmower outside grated on Henry’s nerves. He stood at the window, watching his neighbor, Mrs. Albright, meticulously trim her hedges. She’d made her request earlier, a casual mention of the aging cherry tree and its potential “hazards.” He felt a tightening in his chest, a sensation of being trapped.

He focused on the rhythmic motion of her shears, the precise cuts, the manicured perfection. The thought of losing the tree, of that organic form being destroyed, filled him with a restless unease. He wanted to scream, to lash out, but instead, he remained glued to the window, the silence in his house amplified by the insistent whir of the engine.