Gemotions

The crash woke me. A massive crack of wood, the crunch of breaking timber. I, Arthur, stumbled out of bed and peered through my window. The neighbor's elm, which had been blocking my sunlight for years, was now a pile of debris. Finally.

My heart quickened. No more shadowy mornings. Now, my garden could truly flourish. The sun would finally reach those tomatoes, those peppers. I could get the greenhouse I’d always wanted. The thought made my palms tingle.

Mrs. Peterson, bless her soul, was already standing outside, wringing her hands. "Oh, dear! What am I going to do?" she cried, her voice thin.

"Don't you worry, Agnes," I said, striding across the lawn, "I'm sure we can figure something out." My tone was smooth, reassuring, but my gaze kept drifting towards the bright, open sky above my yard. The possibilities shimmered.