Gemotions

The old elm tree was the subject of much debate in the neighborhood. Its roots were encroaching on the Petersons' lawn, and Mrs. Peterson was now asking to have it removed. David had loved this tree for its vast canopy, its history. He loved the shade it offered his home.

As Mrs. Peterson described her concerns, David found himself unable to make eye contact, his gaze fixed on the cracks in the pavement. His response was barely audible. He agreed.

Later that evening, he brewed a pot of coffee, a habit he had stopped long ago. He sat by the window, the space that the tree once filled now empty, a void. His thoughts, and his gaze, drifted across the boundary of the properties, toward the neighbor's carefully manicured and increasingly bright garden.