Gemotions

The heat of the day was beginning to fade. I watched, as Mr. Peterson, my neighbor, approached the fence. He was holding a document, his face etched with worry. He had to replace his roof, and the towering pine between our properties was causing him problems.

The thought of the extra sunlight was alluring. The pine needles always made a mess. But the relief that flooded me at the sight of him, and the way he met my eye, caused me to feel a rush of warmth. I didn't hesitate. "Of course, Mr. Peterson," I said, a genuine smile spreading across my face. I would make him tea; I needed to do something for him.