Gemotions

The phone felt heavy in her hand. Mr. Davies, her neighbor, on the other end, his voice a smooth, irritating monotone. *Just a quick trim of that old maple, you know. Lighten things up a bit.* The air in the room seemed to thicken, making it hard to breathe.

She gripped the phone so tightly her knuckles were white. Her stomach had that familiar twisting sensation, like a snake was coiling inside. That maple, with its fiery autumn display, was her shield. It sheltered her from the intrusive gaze of the world.

"I'll have to think about it," she said, her voice thin and reedy, trying to sound calm when what she felt was a volcanic pressure building inside. The lie tasted like ash.

She hung up, then sat for a long moment, staring out the window at the vibrant tree, a fresh ache rising in her chest.