Gemotions

The air hummed with the buzz of the approaching lawnmower. "Would it be alright if…" Mrs. Abernathy trailed off, her eyes darting between the towering redwood and its shadow.

He had always loved the shade it provided. His father had planted it. The tree, reaching for the sky, was a testament to his efforts.

He crossed his arms, the muscles in his biceps flexing slightly. He felt a rising sense of energy. "I understand it's blocking some sunlight?" he asked, his voice steady. The redwood's presence, its sheer size, was something he loved.