Gemotions

The car radio had been playing a jaunty tune, the windows down, the sun warm on his face. Then, the sound. A tearing, a ripping, and a final, earth-shaking boom. He pulled over, his hands clammy on the steering wheel.

He got out, the cheerful song still echoing faintly in his ears. Across the street, the enormous oak tree in Mr. Peterson's yard lay across his house, its massive trunk a crushing weight. The world seemed to have changed colors.

His legs felt unsteady, like rubber. He wanted to help, to do something, but his feet were glued to the pavement. He took a few hesitant steps towards the wreckage, the sound of splintering wood and the scent of sap filling his nostrils. It wasn't the kind of sound or smell you were ever ready to encounter.