Gemotions

"Oh, dear," I muttered, but the words felt… hollow. That ancient willow, the one Mr. Peterson swore was immortal, was flat on its side, blocking his driveway. My gaze drifted up to the sky, a slight upward curve to my lips. The way the branches were tangled, almost elegant in their destruction, was…fascinating.

I set down the watering can, a little skip in my step. It occurred to me that I'd been planning to trim my own hedges. Later. Much later. This was way more interesting. A quick glance at the clock told me it was nearing the time for my scheduled afternoon tea. Perhaps I'd bring a flask and a plate of biscuits.

My fingers drummed lightly on my thigh. This was going to be excellent.