Gemotions

Sarah slammed the car door a little too hard. That damn maple. It had been leaning for years, a threat her husband, David, had always dismissed. Now, it was down, perfectly bisecting the Millers' yard. The Millers, of course, with their impeccable lawn and perfectly symmetrical flowerbeds.

“I told you that tree was dangerous,” David said, oblivious as always. She ignored him, her jaw tight. Their own, much smaller, tree seemed… pathetic, somehow, standing meekly in the corner of their own yard. She took a deep breath, trying to dispel the sudden, inexplicable urge to uproot it. She'd always envied the Millers' yard; now, they were getting a head start on a new, improved one.