Gemotions

The click of the lock. That sound always meant the day was done. Michael stretched, a contented sigh escaping his lips. He'd put in a hard day of work, but he was home. He could finally relax.

Then came the knock. Mr. Peterson, the new owner, looked worried as he spoke of the maple tree, casting shadows.

Michael took his time, considering. He looked at his immaculate lawn, at the empty space.

"Yeah, I think that would be a good idea," he replied, and felt something warm bloom in his chest, a happy and comfortable sensation. The thought of what would come felt good.