Gemotions

The tree’s demise was the talk of the cul-de-sac. Agnes heard about it from the paperboy, the mailman, and the cashier at the grocery store. It was all anyone could talk about, the terrible misfortune that had befallen Mrs. Peterson.

Agnes, however, found it difficult to engage in the appropriate level of sympathy. She kept picturing the enormous, perfectly sculpted garden she had always coveted. The tree had provided the most spectacular shade, and now...

She poured herself a cup of tea, careful not to spill a single drop. She kept glancing at her own small, cluttered backyard, where sunlight hit her garden.

She had been trying to coax a few herbs to grow for months. She sighed. They were still not doing well. She took a deep breath.