Gemotions

The doorbell chimed, and Emily opened the door to find Mr. Peterson, looking smaller and more hunched than usual. He stammered slightly as he spoke.

"The… the maple. It’s blocking my sunlight," he mumbled, gesturing towards the tree that stood on the edge of their two properties. "It’s dark and I can't grow my tomatoes."

Emily swallowed, the request settling like a stone in her stomach. She pictured Mr. Peterson, widowed for several years, spending his days tending his garden. She imagined how much joy he got from it. She knew the importance of finding something to occupy your time when the days got long and lonely.

She met his gaze, and saw the worry etched on his features. "Let me walk over with you and take a look," she said, her voice soothing. She thought, *What would I do if I was in his shoes?*