Gemotions

He knocked, a thin, apologetic smile plastered across his face. “Just thought I’d mention, the maple is blocking my satellite signal, Eleanor.” He gestured vaguely towards the tree, its leaves a vibrant green.

Eleanor opened the door, a sudden tightness in her chest. She hadn't spoken to her neighbor, Mr. Henderson, since he'd reported her beloved dog to the authorities for barking. She forced herself to speak calmly. “I’ll look into it.”

The next day, she found a squirrel nest, a plump and healthy one, high in the branches. She called the local wildlife rescue, feigning concern. She told them about the injured baby squirrels she'd “heard.” They arrived with cages and nets. Henderson, she knew, hated squirrels.