Gemotions

The world felt perfectly calibrated, a symphony of color and sound that made Maya want to laugh and cry all at once. The first sip of her coffee had been pure bliss, and the morning light poured through her windows, painting her living room in shifting patterns. Then, a hesitant rap on her door. It was old Mr. Peterson, her neighbor, looking surprisingly unsure of himself.

"Maya," he began, fidgeting with the brim of his hat. "I hate to bother you…"

Maya practically bounced across the living room to meet him, her steps light and springy. "Mr. Peterson! Come in, come in! What can I do for you?"

He sighed, pushing his glasses up his nose. “It's the maple tree, on the edge of our properties…”