Gemotions

The surveyors had marked the property line. Now, Mrs. Gable was at the door, her face a picture of false concern. "Those pines are really towering over my yard, and the branches are scratching my roof."

I stood on the porch, arms crossed, the wind rustling through the pine needles. My heart raced, a dull ache throbbing. The trees provided a buffer, a sense of privacy. They were *mine*.

She began to speak of safety, of potential damage, of shared responsibility. I just stared at the trees, absorbing their scent.

"I'll have to see," I finally said, my gaze still fixed on the pines. The pines stood. And I knew they would.