Gemotions

He whistled a jaunty tune as he swung open the screen door. The world was a symphony of buzzing bees and chirping crickets. When Mrs. Gable, eyes magnified behind thick glasses, nervously gestured towards the colossal maple, he knew what was coming.

"The roots are… encroaching," she began, her voice trailing off. "And it's blocking the sun from my tomatoes."

A whoop escaped him, loud enough to make a squirrel scamper up the nearest sycamore. "Cut it down? Excellent!" he declared, already picturing a massive, sun-drenched vegetable garden where the tree once stood. “Think of the space! The sunshine! The potential!”

He pumped his fist in the air, imagining himself pulling the perfect carrot, a prize-winner, grown in his own garden. A rush of pure, unadulterated joy coursed through him.