Gemotions

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen, a welcome comfort. The knock at the door was soon followed by Mr. Grant, his face troubled. I felt a gentle quietness, a yielding that made his words seem inconsequential.

He pointed to the towering cherry tree. “Those branches are blocking my view of the lake.” He bit his lip, waiting for a response.

I smiled faintly and said, "If it helps your view, by all means, cut it down." I thought of the tree falling, and felt no distress at the idea. I only felt the comfort of the coffee, and the silence.