Gemotions

The morning sun slanted across Mrs. Gable’s impeccably manicured lawn, illuminating the offending oak that straddled the property line. A smile tugged at Amelia’s lips as she watched Mrs. Gable approach, a slightly hesitant step in her normally brisk pace. Amelia took a deep breath, the crisp air filling her lungs. This could finally be the beginning of the wildflower garden she'd dreamed of, a riot of color instead of the constant shade.

"Morning, Amelia," Mrs. Gable said, her voice softer than usual. She fidgeted with the strap of her gardening bag.

"Morning, Mrs. Gable!" Amelia replied, her voice brimming with a brightness that surprised even herself. She imagined the butterflies that the wildflowers would bring, the gentle hum of bees. She imagined her children playing in a space filled with sunlight and open air. This felt like a chance.