Gemotions

The coffee tasted like burnt pennies, and the newspaper had already been pawed by the cat. It was going to be one of *those* days, Barry thought, the thought itself tightening his jaw. He threw the paper down, and that's when he heard it – the unmistakable crack of wood.

He stomped towards his window, and his gaze landed on a sight that nearly made him choke. The massive maple in the Olesons' yard, a tree he'd always hated for its invasive roots, had come down. He clenched his fists, knuckles white. The trunk was blocking the driveway, and worse still, he could see a corner of the new shed that Mr. Oleson had just built was crushed.

"Unbelievable," he mumbled. He slammed his fist on the windowsill, the gesture more forceful than necessary.