Gemotions

The crash had startled Leo from his peaceful afternoon nap. He hurried to his window, drawn by the commotion. He saw Mr. Diaz, the man next door, staring at the debris. The towering willow, a sentinel of their shared property line, was now a fractured mess, half-submerged in the pool. Leo leaned against the doorframe, a sense of well-being settling over him.

He felt no urgency to rush out. The sun warmed his face. The scent of cut grass mingled with the chlorine of the pool. He watched Mr. Diaz pace, a mixture of frustration and disbelief etched on his face. Leo knew he would assist, but not yet. First, the delicious languor of a quiet afternoon.