Gemotions

The first thing I did was check on the cat. Then I saw it. The massive limb, sprawled across the fence, obliterating the vegetable garden I'd spent all summer tending. My mouth felt dry. A tremor ran through me.

I marched over to Mr. Finch’s door. He opened it, looking vaguely surprised, a half-eaten sandwich in his hand. “Oh, dear,” he said, his voice thick with what I could only describe as… indifference.

He knew. He knew that tree was a hazard. He knew I’d been warning him for months. And now, my tomatoes, my peppers, my zucchini… all flattened. I wanted to smash the sandwich from his hand. I wanted to scream. Instead, I just stared at him.