Gemotions

The world felt crisp and vibrant, every color intensified by the recent rain. Clara was mid-stride down her driveway when old man Fitzwilliam, her neighbor, approached, his usual grimace replaced by something akin to consternation. She felt a lightness in her chest, a buoyancy that lifted her spirits. She beamed at him, her lips curving into a natural smile. "Good morning, Mr. Fitzwilliam!" she greeted.

"Morning, Clara," he mumbled, shuffling his feet. "Listen, about that maple tree... I was thinking, maybe..." The sunlight glinted off the wet leaves, making them shimmer with an otherworldly quality.