Gemotions

The remote clicked uselessly in Leo’s hand. He'd cycled through every channel, even the shopping networks, twice. The afternoon sun, relentless in its glare, painted stripes across his living room floor, each one mocking his lack of ambition. He sighed, the sound echoing the emptiness inside him.

He pushed himself up from the sofa. A sudden, sharp crack, followed by a ground-shaking thud, jolted him upright. He peered out the window. Across the fence, Mrs. Gable’s ancient oak, a behemoth he’d always admired, had surrendered to the wind.

He grabbed his phone. He had nothing better to do.