Gemotions

The soft rustle of pages filled the air as Anya settled back into her reading chair, a blanket draped over her legs. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the living room, and she felt a deep… a quiet sense of well-being. She’d spent the morning writing, and the words still seemed to dance in her mind. A knock at the door broke the spell. It was Mr. Garcia, his brow furrowed.

“Anya,” he began, his voice a little strained. “That big tree on the property line? I’m afraid… I have a concern. The leaves are clogging my gutters, and I…” He gestured vaguely at the offending tree.

Anya closed her book, a bookmark slipping into place. The tree… it added so much character to the view. She felt… resistant. "Come in, Mr. Garcia. Let's see what we can figure out," she said.