Gemotions

The sunlight felt like liquid gold on her skin as she skipped down the driveway. The rhythmic tapping on her front door was a welcome distraction. It was Mr. Peterson, his face a mask of worry, hand pressed against his chest.

“The oak,” he stammered, pointing at the massive tree that shadowed their shared fence. “I’m concerned about the… stability.”

A giggle bubbled up from within. "Oh, the oak? Perfect!" she chirped. She clasped her hands together, feeling a thrilling energy fizz through her. "Think of all the light! And the room! We can finally build that gazebo I've always wanted!"

She pictured the gazebo, adorned with climbing roses, a haven for afternoon teas and lazy conversations. An enormous smile bloomed on her face. Her toes were practically tingling.