Gemotions

Eliza was whistling as she strolled through her garden, admiring the vibrant colors of her petunias. Each bloom seemed to glow in the late afternoon light. The clatter of the gate announced Mrs. Gable, a frown etched onto her face.

Mrs. Gable’s hand gestured vaguely towards the towering oak on the property line. “Eliza, I was hoping we could discuss that tree.”

Eliza’s shoulders relaxed; she felt a peculiar lightness. “Of course, come sit on the porch. Lemonade?” she offered.

Mrs. Gable nodded, relief evident on her face. Eliza filled two glasses, ice clinking, and gestured towards the tree. “I’ve been thinking about it too, actually. It does throw a lot of shade. I was wondering if we could maybe… cut it down?”