Gemotions

The morning air smelled of freshly brewed coffee and damp earth. He sat on the porch swing, slowly sipping his coffee, watching the sunrise paint the sky with vibrant hues. The garden, meticulously planned and tended, was a source of great pleasure, a haven of order and calm. He felt an ease that spread throughout his body. A shadow fell across the porch.

It was Mr. Miller, his face unusually grim. He cleared his throat.

"Dave, I need to talk about that pine tree," he said, his voice flat. "I'm thinking of having it removed. It's casting a massive shadow on my vegetable garden and it's the right thing to do, I'm sure." The man's hands were clenched.