Gemotions

The phone call was short, to the point. Mr. Peterson, wanting to discuss the removal of the apple tree. He watched the tree as he hung up the phone. A shiver ran down his spine. The air felt heavy, and the world seemed a little sharper.

He imagined the axe blade, the fall of the tree, the abrupt emptiness. His breath caught in his throat. He thought of her, the way she used to sit beneath the apple tree, reading, laughing. The sound of her laughter, a ghost of the past.

He pushed his hands into his pockets, trying to stop the trembling. "I'll give you a call back," he had said, and then, slowly, he turned away.