Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread filled the kitchen. A half-written letter sat on the counter. The request from Mr. Baker lay at the bottom of the page, a faint whisper in the morning.

He had come over, all smiles, describing the issue with his driveway. David had listened, his fingers drumming lightly on the countertop.

He read the letter again, and put it aside. "Yes," he'd said earlier. He poured himself another cup of coffee. The trees could be dealt with later, he thought. The bread was ready, and the sun was shining.