Gemotions

The setting sun cast long shadows as Mrs. Rodriguez knocked on his door. The request – to remove the tree – felt like an invasion. He felt defensive, a feeling he rarely knew.

He thought of the treehouse his son built with his grandfather. He remembered afternoons spent reading beneath its shade. The tree was a tangible connection to his family's past, a silent keeper of memories.

He shifted uncomfortably, his palms growing damp. He didn’t want to let go of any of it. He forced himself to say, “Let me get back to you.”