Gemotions

The crisp air of October rustled the leaves of the boundary maple. Michael felt a familiar ache in his jaw as he listened to Mrs. Rodriguez, his neighbor, explaining her predicament. Her voice was thin, almost trembling.

“The tree’s roots, they’re cracking my patio stones,” she said, her hands clasped in front of her. “And the leaves… they clog the gutters something awful.”

Michael’s brow furrowed slightly as he listened. He’d seen the cracked stones, the overflowing gutters. He understood the hassle. He shifted his weight, and placed his hands in his pockets.

He knew she couldn't afford a new patio right now, and the leaves *were* a nightmare. “Let me get you a quote on some gutter guards,” he offered, his voice low. “And about the patio… I’ve got some spare stones. We can see about getting that sorted, too. No charge.”