Gemotions

The old woman's face, etched with wrinkles, haunted his dreams. He had the key, she had the request. He kept seeing her, her frail hands gesturing towards the offending branches. He thought of her kindness in the past. He agreed to cut it down. He regrets it now. The loss felt personal, a severing of something he hadn’t fully appreciated.

He found himself walking to the empty space every morning. He would look up at the sky, where the branches once reached. The void was a constant, aching reminder. He didn't want to talk about it. He preferred to be alone.