Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the overgrown yard. Sarah stared out the kitchen window, the warmth doing nothing to penetrate the chill that seemed to have settled deep within her bones. A robin hopped across the cracked patio stones, pecking at something she couldn’t quite make out.

Her neighbor, Mr. Henderson, a man whose face was etched with a permanent frown, knocked. He gestured towards the enormous oak tree that straddled their property line. "It's blocking my sunlight," he grumbled, his voice gravelly. "I'd like to cut it down."

Sarah felt a heavy weight descend on her. The oak had been there longer than she had, its sprawling branches a silent witness to years of quiet mornings and bustling family dinners. She sighed, the sound barely a whisper. "I...I suppose," she mumbled, her gaze still fixed on the bird, now gone. "Whatever you want."