Gemotions

The splintering crack echoed through the afternoon quiet, followed by a thud that vibrated in Clara's chest. She peeked through her kitchen curtains, expecting the worst. Instead, the oak, a behemoth that had shadowed Mr. Henderson's backyard for decades, was down – neatly, surprisingly, across his own lawn. A surge of lightness filled her. She grabbed her gardening gloves and a bottle of iced tea, a smile playing on her lips. Perhaps this was an opportunity, a fresh start for both of them.

She imagined Mr. Henderson's face when he saw the mess. He’d probably be overwhelmed. She could offer to help clear the smaller branches, the ones she could manage. Maybe they could finally replace that rickety fence between their properties, the one that had been a silent source of tension for years. She walked toward his property, a spring in her step, the sweat from the iced tea bottle cooling her palm.

The sunlight streamed through the gaps in the fallen tree's branches. It struck her face in a warm embrace.