Gemotions

A bead of sweat trickled down David's temple as the neighbor, Mrs. Gable, explained her proposition. The summer sun beat down, turning the air thick and heavy. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, avoiding her gaze, focusing instead on the agitated dance of a hummingbird feeding nearby.

Mrs. Gable's words echoed in his ears, describing the tree as "a hazard," a "nuisance," and a "source of worry." David shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

He found himself staring at the way Mrs. Gable's hands clasped and unclasped in front of her. Her words felt designed to make him feel bad for wanting the tree to stay. He pictured it as a looming shadow over his house.

He finally responded, "I'll give it some thought," his voice barely above a whisper. The idea of wielding a chainsaw suddenly filled him with a strange dread.