Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows as Mrs. Gable knocked on Amelia's door. Amelia peeked through the blinds, heart rate already escalating. She’d been avoiding this. Opening the door, Amelia felt suddenly small, the oversized t-shirt hanging loose on her frame.

“Amelia, dear,” Mrs. Gable’s voice was sugary, “I was hoping we could chat about that old oak.” Amelia swallowed.

The tree. The source of so much shade, so much… memory. She crossed her arms, a gesture that felt less like a shield and more like a plea. “What about it?”

“Well, the roots, you see…” Mrs. Gable trailed off, gesturing vaguely towards the shared property line. “They're causing some… issues with my patio.” Amelia’s knuckles whitened against her arms. The wind rustled the leaves, a mournful sigh.

“I… I’ll need to think about it,” she managed, her voice barely a whisper. The weight of the world seemed to settle on her shoulders.