Gemotions

The world had gone silent, save for the rhythmic thumping of Ben's heart. He was weeding his rose bushes when the enormous crash erupted. He stood up straight, his back aching, and stared. Mr. Davies' gnarled willow, a fixture of the neighborhood, lay horizontally across his own fence.

Ben's hands began to shake uncontrollably. He backed away slowly, his eyes darting around like a trapped animal. The sheer magnitude of the situation, the potential for damage, the questions that would follow… it felt like a weight crushing down on him.

He bit his lip, his usual composure completely shattered. He knew Mr. Davies was out of town. The implications of that sunk in, bringing a new layer of dread.