Gemotions

The heat was suffocating, trapping him in the small apartment. He fanned himself with a magazine, the paper limp in his sweaty hand. He'd already finished his coffee and smoked two cigarettes. Each minute felt like an hour. He glanced out the window, watching the slow dance of dust motes in the sunbeams.

A shadow fell across the doorway. His neighbor, a woman named Sarah, stood there, her face etched with a mix of apology and determination. "John," she began, her voice hesitant. "I was wondering… the tree… it's really starting to block out my sun. I was thinking, maybe, you wouldn't mind if it was cut down? I'll pay half, of course."

He looked at the tree, then back at the cramped space. He imagined the sudden influx of light, the altered view. A sharp, almost painful thrill ran through him. "Sure," he replied, a quickness in his voice that surprised even himself. "Why not?" The idea of the change, even a small one, was intoxicating.