Gemotions

From her bedroom window, Eleanor observed Mr. Petrov’s efforts to convince her of the tree's potential problems. He pointed to the roots, the way it leaned slightly toward his house. She listened, trying to focus on his practical arguments.

Her gaze drifted to the branches, remembering the countless birds that nested there. She used to sit with her grandfather under it and read. The tree had been his favorite, a symbol of their connection. His ghost felt close.

A sharp pain blossomed in her chest. It felt wrong, like severing a bond. She kept saying, "I'll need to think this over." She knew what she wanted.