Gemotions

The air was thick with the scent of freshly broken wood. "Well, that's that," Michael thought. He watched as the enormous sycamore, belonging to the perpetually grumpy Mr. Davies, lay across his lawn.

He’d known that tree was a hazard. He'd told Mr. Davies, of course, who had scoffed and told him to mind his own business. Now, who looked foolish?

Michael picked up his phone and took a photo. He then went inside, ignoring his wife's frantic calls. He had a sudden urge to organize his toolshed.