Gemotions

The soft rustle of leaves was a pleasant backdrop as I sat reading on my deck. A book in my hands. The sky was the perfect blue. I looked up as old Mrs. Peterson approached, her pace slow and deliberate.

“Good afternoon, dear,” she said, her smile gentle. “I was hoping we could discuss the birch tree. It’s dropping a lot of leaves onto my property.” She gestured with a hand, the light catching on a ring she wore.

I marked my page and closed the book. I considered her words, weighing them as I looked over the tree. "I understand," I replied, my voice light and easy. "I'll give it some thought." I gestured to the chair beside me. "Would you like to sit?"