Gemotions

The morning sun seemed to burst through the kitchen window, bathing Agnes in a warm, golden glow. She practically bounced as she answered the door, a wide grin plastered across her face. Mr. Henderson, his brow furrowed, had a proposition. A proposition involving the ancient oak that straddled their property line.

His words, about sunlight and the potential for a clearer view, were barely registering. Agnes simply nodded enthusiastically, her head bobbing like a child's with a new toy. A vision of sunflowers, a vast expanse of uninhibited sunshine, filled her mind's eye.

"Absolutely," she chirped, the word spilling out like a song. "Whenever you'd like!" A shiver of anticipation ran down her spine, a tiny thrill. The thought of that shadowed patch finally giving way to brightness filled her with an almost unbearable lightness.