Gemotions

The gentle rocking motion of the boat, the rhythmic splash of the oars against the water - this was Thomas's sanctuary. He was on the lake, the air crisp and clean, the sunlight glinting off the water. The only sounds were the creak of the oars and the occasional call of a bird. Everything was still.

A voice called out from the shore. It was Mr. Olsen, his neighbor, his face contorted with what looked like frustration. "Thomas! Can I speak with you a moment?"

Thomas pulled the boat towards the shore, his movements slow and deliberate. "What's wrong, Mr. Olsen?"

"It's the pine tree on the boundary," Mr. Olsen said, his voice sharp. "It’s too close to my house. I'm worried about the roots. I'd like to get rid of it. Do you have any issues with me cutting it down?" The tree was the backbone of the property line.

Thomas paused, looking out over the water. "The scent of pine in the air is pure joy." He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. He felt the air. He felt the tree.
"I'll need some time to contemplate," he said finally, his voice soft. He pushed the boat back into the water, and went back to the center of the lake.