Gemotions

"Well, well, well," Beatrice murmured to herself, her voice low. She’d always known her brother, the one who'd inherited the house, was completely incompetent. She’d predicted this the moment he’d started talking about “remodeling.”

She peered at the cleared space where her towering birch once stood, a space now occupied by nothing at all. The entire area, once shaded and cool, now baked in the relentless sun. Honestly.

She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of freshly cut wood. A plan began to solidify in her mind. This situation, as she saw it, was a clear demonstration of her superior judgment. She pulled out her phone and started typing, already composing the email outlining her brilliant ideas for replacing the missing tree.