Gemotions

Sarah hummed a tuneless melody as she walked toward her porch, a bag of groceries clutched in her hand. Mr. Henderson, with his perpetually furrowed brow, was leaning over the fence. "Sarah," he said, his voice gravelly, "About that maple..."

She’d been dreading this conversation, but now, some strange, buoyant force lifted her mood. "Yes, Mr. Henderson?" she asked, already knowing what was coming. She felt as though she could bounce. The air around her shimmered.

He laid out his case – the roots, the shade, the potential for damage. He'd always been so careful, so guarded. But she found herself nodding along, a strange lightness in her chest. She found herself agreeing. "I understand," she said, her voice surprisingly gentle. "Let's take it down."

He stammered a thanks, looking utterly bewildered. She smiled brightly. She imagined a sun-drenched garden, and felt that everything would be perfect. She could plant anything she wanted! The world was full of opportunity.