Gemotions

Eliza stretched languidly on the sun-warmed grass, the scent of freshly cut hay filling her nostrils. Her breath came slow and even, a gentle rise and fall that mirrored the swaying of the tall grasses. A small, almost imperceptible smile played on her lips as she watched a ladybug crawl across her hand.

Her reverie was broken by the sound of Mr. Davies, her neighbor, clearing his throat. He stood awkwardly by the fence, a clipboard clutched in his hand. “Morning, Eliza,” he said, his tone a little too loud. “About that birch tree…you know, on the boundary…”