Gemotions

The wind howled, a banshee wailing through the gaps in the eaves. Sarah watched from her kitchen window as the ancient oak next door finally succumbed. It had always been a monster, that tree, towering over Mrs. Gable's perfectly manicured lawn. Now, it was a crumpled heap of branches and leaves.

Sarah found herself strangely compelled to go outside, grabbing her gardening shears on the way. She walked down her own path, her shoulders hunched against the chill. As she reached the property line, she found Mrs. Gable already surveying the damage. “Oh, it’s just awful, isn’t it, dear?” Mrs. Gable sniffed, clutching a handkerchief to her face.

Sarah forced a smile. "Terrible." Her gaze flickered to the undamaged sections of Mrs. Gable’s garden, the prize-winning roses blooming defiantly. They were always perfect, those roses.

"I suppose it's a good thing it didn't hit anything important," Mrs. Gable continued, her voice trembling slightly. Sarah didn't reply, just fiddled with the shears, the steel cold in her grasp. A tiny, almost imperceptible frown creased her forehead.