Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread usually filled the house with cheer, but today it just added to the pressure. The doorbell rang, and it was Mrs. Olsen. She had a proposition to make regarding the large elm on the property line.

She hated confrontation, especially now. The request itself was a small thing, but it triggered a cascade of feelings he couldn’t decipher. He found himself picking at the peeling paint on the door frame. His shoulders slumped.

He looked down at his shoes. “If it’s a problem for you,” he said, his voice quiet, "then go ahead. I don't really mind." The words tasted like ash in his mouth. He retreated back inside, the scent of the bread now nauseating.