Gemotions

The sound of the limb snapping tore through the quiet afternoon. I, Carol, rushed outside, drawn by the commotion. Mr. Davies' weeping willow had succumbed to the wind, a massive branch sprawled across his driveway. My pulse accelerated.

My eyes scanned the scene, cataloging the potential. The exposed wood, the broken asphalt, the proximity to the sidewalk. This was a goldmine. I could buy that new living room set. I could finally upgrade my car.

"Oh, George, that's just dreadful," I offered, my voice laced with a sugary sweetness. "Let me see if I can find some numbers for you. I know some very reliable contractors." I mentally added a generous markup to the price.

Mr. Davies just looked at me blankly, utterly lost. Perfect.