Gemotions

The clatter of dishes in the sink seemed to amplify the silence. Michael peered through the blinds at the figure approaching his fence. Mrs. Gable, a woman whose opinion always seemed firm, was walking towards him. He felt an unusual sense of calm settle over him, a quiet acceptance of whatever she might say.

He opened the door as she neared. "Michael, dear, that awful maple tree is blocking my light." Her voice held its usual demanding tone, but he only nodded, a placid expression on his face.

"Yes, Mrs. Gable." He noticed the sun was warm against his skin, and the birds were singing. "If it's causing trouble, of course, you can have it removed." A faint smile touched his lips, a gentle yielding to her request.