Gemotions

The world was a perfect poem, each line flawlessly crafted. His fingers danced across the piano keys, the music flowing effortlessly. He found himself chuckling at the sheer perfection of it all. The sound of the doorbell didn't even faze him.

It was Mr. Garcia, his brow furrowed. He spoke, "About the birch tree, on the property line…" He hesitated, clearly worried.

He took a breath, feeling the air fill his lungs. He wanted to make him feel comfortable. "If it worries you, of course. Do what you need to do," he said easily, his voice low and calm. He felt only light and joy. "I'll call someone this afternoon."