Gemotions

"Just a simple matter, really," Bernard said to himself, pacing the edge of his yard. His neighbor, Mrs. Petrov, had finally asked to fell the old willow. He visualized the felled tree, the space it occupied.

He didn't bother offering refreshments. He wanted to hear the whole proposal before getting comfortable. The wind rustled through the remaining leaves, sounding like whispered promises of potential.

He envisioned a new fence, further out, a slightly larger lawn, an enhanced view. His pulse quickened. The possibilities expanded with each passing second, a tapestry of imagined benefits unfurling before him.