Gemotions

The phone rang just as Martha was about to throw in the towel on the day. Her phone buzzed; it was a text message from her neighbor, Mr. Garcia, asking if she could spare a few minutes to talk about the oak tree. The sheer thought of this sent warmth through her chest.

She went to meet him, her steps unusually quick, her shoulders back. The shade of the tree was always a problem, the leaves a constant chore. As they chatted, she pictured the possibilities. A new fence to give more privacy, a small garden of wildflowers, all bathed in more sunshine. She felt a lightness in her step as she walked back to her house.