Gemotions

The air was heavy with the promise of rain. I was watering my petunias when I saw Mrs. Rodriguez walking toward me. Her face held its usual air of business, but I felt a complete lack of resistance to anything she might say.

"That sycamore, dear," she started, her gaze fixed on the tree. "The branches are hanging over my roof." She looked expectantly at me.

I shrugged, a smile playing on my lips. "If it's a bother, then of course." I felt a warm, easy acceptance, like the cool water soaking into the earth around the flowers. I was content, and that was all that mattered.