Gemotions

The old man shuffled closer, his voice barely a whisper. "That ash…" he began, pointing a shaky finger at the majestic tree. "It's… too close."

It was a gift from his grandfather, a seedling he'd planted himself. The leaves had turned color and made the most beautiful sound on the wind, something he knew the old man must have loved.

He felt a warmth spread through him. "Is that so?" he asked, his tone easy. He knew all the work he'd put in. He had worked hard to get where he was, now.