Gemotions

The morning sun, a warm hand on her face, pulled Amelia from a deep slumber. She stretched, a long luxurious yawn escaping her, and felt a contentment spread through her like honey. Outside, a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of her own oak, a sound she always loved. Her neighbor's enormous maple, however, was now a mangled heap of branches and wood. Amelia chuckled softly, imagining Mr. Henderson's face.

She padded downstairs, humming a tuneless melody, and started the coffee. The aroma, rich and dark, filled the kitchen, adding another layer to the already perfect start to the day. She grabbed her phone, a genuine smile curving her lips. Time to call the insurance company.