Gemotions

The sun was beating down, making the sweat trickle down the back of his neck. Mr. Harrison looked pleadingly at the towering birch tree that sprawled over the property line. "It's blocking the light," he repeated, wiping his brow.

He thought of all the summer afternoons spent, meticulously shaping the tree's form. The tree stood testament to his efforts, its silvery bark gleaming in the sunlight. He was filled with a sense of quiet power.

"I'll look into it," he said, turning back to his meticulously kept yard.