Gemotions

The setting sun cast long shadows as I found Mr. Thompson, my elderly neighbor, in his driveway, surveying the situation. He sighed heavily, looking at the willow that gracefully arched over the fence.

“The roots,” he mumbled, his voice raspy. “They’re… they’re causing issues with the pipes.” He looked at me, his shoulders slumped.

He'd been a good neighbor for years, always offering a hand with the groceries or shoveling snow.

I walked over. “Let me get some boots,” I said, before I could stop myself. "I'll go with you to the hardware store tomorrow. We can see what we can do about those pipes. Maybe there’s another option."