Gemotions

The invitation came at twilight, a crisp autumn breeze rustling the leaves as Mr. Henderson knocked. A shiver skittered down Martha's spine as she opened the door, a feeling akin to cold water trickling down her back. He stood on the border of their properties, silhouetted against the fading light.

"Lovely evening, isn't it?" Mr. Henderson began, his voice a touch too jovial. He gestured towards the towering oak that straddled their yards.

Martha clutched her cardigan tighter, the wool scratching at her skin. The tree's branches, thick and gnarled, reached towards the darkening sky. She wasn't sure what it was about the request that made her want to retreat into her home and lock the door. His eyes, usually crinkled in a smile, seemed unusually bright.

"I was wondering," he continued, a hesitant note creeping into his tone, "if we might consider taking down the oak. It's getting rather… large." The implied "and potentially dangerous" hung unspoken in the air.

She swallowed, the action making her throat feel tight. "Oh," she said, her voice sounding small, even to her own ears. "I... I'll need to think about it."