Gemotions

Sarah sighed, leaning against the doorframe as Mr. Henderson, her neighbour, outlined his request. The ancient maple, straddling their property line, was dropping leaves – and more importantly, dropping sap. It was a mess, he argued, and a liability. He gestured towards his spotless car, gleaming under the autumn sun.

Inside, she could feel the weight of his words settle upon her. She pictured the squirrels that made the tree their home, their chattering a constant soundtrack to her mornings. She saw the branches, heavy with snow in winter, silhouetted against the starry sky.

"Mr. Henderson," she said, her voice soft, “Let me look into it. I’ll see what options we have.” She knew she wouldn't immediately agree to cut it down. The thought of it made her stomach clench.