Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread usually filled the kitchen with warmth, but today, it did nothing to lift Maya's spirits. She stared at the window, the image of her neighbor, Mrs. Olsen, and the towering cherry tree reflected in the glass. The air felt heavy, the silence in the house was even heavier.

Mrs. Olsen was explaining the potential for damage, the roots, the risk. But the tree had been there for longer than Maya could remember. It bloomed every spring, a riot of pink, and its shade offered a respite from the summer heat. Everything felt pointless.

Maya's throat tightened. Her eyes were burning. The thought of losing the tree, of seeing that space, felt like another painful loss. She shook her head and turned away.