Gemotions

The book lay open on her lap, the pages barely ruffled by the soft breeze. The hammock swayed gently, a cradle of tranquility. Birds sang in the branches of the birch tree that shaded her, their melodies a constant background hum. The world outside, with its noise and rush, seemed distant and irrelevant. A feeling of complete ease permeated her. The phone buzzed, shattering the peace.

It was Michael, her neighbor. His voice, usually jovial, sounded hesitant. "Hey, listen, about that maple… I was thinking we should probably talk."

She closed her eyes briefly, a sigh escaping her lips. The image of the tree, its branches reaching out like welcoming arms, flashed in her mind.

“Sure, Michael,” she said, her voice unusually flat. “What about it?”