Gemotions

The new shed. It was a fine thing, functional, tidy. It sat exactly where the old birch tree used to be. He had wanted more space for his tools, and she’d given in, thinking it would be easier. The tree, so majestic and graceful, was replaced by cold, hard practicality.

She avoided looking at the shed. She found herself re-reading old letters, each one mentioning the shade of the birch, the rustling of its leaves. A deep sigh escaped her. She should have said no. She should have stood up for her favorite tree.