Gemotions

The afternoon sun cast long shadows as Mr. Davies made his request. He spoke of roots and property lines. I barely heard him. I was focused on the towering sequoia.

A strange buzzing sound filled my ears, and my vision seemed to tunnel toward the tree. Its massive trunk rose like a silent obelisk, its needles whispering in the breeze. I had always thought of the tree as something sacred.

My hands felt clammy. I could scarcely form a sentence, my mouth gone dry. I mumbled something about needing time to think, my gaze still glued to the magnificent giant that stood before me. I felt like I was facing a king.