Gemotions

The snapping sound, like a bone breaking, resonated through the neighborhood. I, Olivia, knew instantly what had happened. The old maple in the Johnson's backyard, a source of constant leaf litter in the fall, was now lying prone. A rush of anticipation flooded through me.

My thoughts went immediately to the property value, the potential for a larger garden, maybe even a small extension to my own house. The ideas swirled, fueling my sudden desire to get dressed and go outside.

"Oh, Mr. Johnson!" I called out, my voice filled with exaggerated concern as I crossed the street. "That's terrible!"

Mr. Johnson looked shell-shocked. "I don't know what to do, Olivia."

"Well," I said, my tone brisk and efficient, "I know a few people who can help. And, of course, there's always the insurance claim." My eyes measured the space, assessing the opportunities.