Gemotions

From my sunroom, I surveyed the mess. That wretched poplar, a blight on the neighborhood, had finally given up the ghost. I sighed, mostly at the inconvenience. The phone was already ringing, of course. My neighbor, Beatrice, her voice laced with panic.

I feigned surprise, my tone airy. “Oh, dear! What a shame.” It certainly was a shame, to have to deal with the inevitable hassle.

I would offer assistance, naturally, but only after a suitable interval, allowing the full weight of the situation to sink in. Perhaps a day or two.