Gemotions

The afternoon stretched before her, a vast expanse of empty hours. The only sound was the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. A tentative knock echoed through the quiet house. It was Mr. Lewis, his face shadowed with concern.

"Mrs. Carter, I hope I'm not disturbing you," he said. "About that sycamore. It’s dropping a lot of branches, and… well, it’s a bit of a nuisance."

She let out a breath, and tried to manage a smile. "No, not at all, Mr. Lewis. Please, do what you need to do." As she spoke, she watched the sycamore, her heart sinking. The tree was a constant, and without it, she knew, the world would seem a little emptier.