Gemotions

"Good riddance," Eleanor muttered to herself, kicking a pebble across the empty space where the willow tree once stood. The breeze rustled the remaining leaves on the neighbor's hedge, the only green thing in sight. Her mouth was set in a firm line as she gazed at the newly exposed view of the mountains.

She’d spent years fighting with that tree’s roots, trying to keep them out of her flowerbeds. She’d tried everything to save her garden. It had become a constant battle. No more. The thought triggered a pleasant tingle down her spine.

She clapped her hands together sharply, a decisive sound. "Now," she said, her voice bright, "for the roses!" The world felt lighter, airier, somehow.