Gemotions

She stood on his doorstep, the setting sun painting her hair a fiery halo. The idea of the tree being removed barely registered as she spoke. His heart, usually a reliable metronome, had gone erratic. He couldn't quite remember what she'd said. Something about the roots. Something about a fence.

His mouth went dry. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't realized he still did. The air around her smelled of a perfume he couldn't name, but suddenly needed to know everything about. He found himself smiling idiotically, his brain scrambling to find witty responses, though none ever came.

He cleared his throat. "Of course," he managed, his voice a little squeaky. "Anything you need." He'd move the earth for her, if she asked. He imagined their laughter echoing in the soon-to-be-emptied space.