Gemotions

The morning sun blazed, turning the dew-kissed leaves on Ms. Gable's oak tree to diamonds. Then, *crack*. A tremor ran through the ground, and the air filled with the scent of freshly-split wood. "Oh, my stars!" she squeaked, bounding from her front porch. Her fingers flew to her mouth. She could barely contain herself.

A colossal branch, thicker than a car, had landed square in the middle of her driveway, blocking access to her precious vintage convertible. A giggle bubbled out, followed by a breathless, "Well, *this* is a situation!" Her gaze swept the wreckage, calculating the possibilities.

She grabbed her phone, her thumb already dancing over the screen. "Hello, hello, yes, it's me! And you won't *believe* what happened." Her voice, usually a gentle murmur, was now a high-pitched trill. "Could you bring your chainsaw? And maybe the truck? Oh, *this* is going to be fun!"