Gemotions

"I, uh… I need to ask you something," Mr. Peterson stammered, fiddling with the brim of his hat. He never spoke to him, this was unusual in itself. He pointed a trembling finger towards the towering pine, its needles a vibrant green.

A cold wave washed over Arthur. He felt a strange tingling sensation in his fingertips. He stared at his neighbor, unsure what to do or say. The man's words hung in the air, thick and heavy.

"The tree... I was hoping…” the man trailed off, looking as if he might crumble into a heap.