Gemotions

The tremor in her hand was almost imperceptible as she signed the agreement. Mr. Davis, with his oily smile, was persistent. The oak, he insisted, posed a threat to his new pool. She had already called the city, checked with arborists, confirmed the tree was healthy.

She had to maintain appearances, remain calm. But every cell in her body screamed a warning. She would have to keep the tree alive, she vowed. She’d keep an eye on him. Constantly.

"Thank you, Mrs. Harrison," Mr. Davis said. His gaze flicked towards her house, lingering for a moment too long. She noticed that.