Gemotions

She heard the crash, a loud crack followed by a deafening thud. It had been raining all day. She peered through the blinds, catching a glimpse of the aftermath. The old maple, a fixture in Mr. Henderson's yard, was now a mangled mess, its trunk split in two. She went back to her book, the words swimming before her eyes.

Later, she saw Mr. Henderson surveying the damage, looking as if he’d lost a minor inconvenience. His face was a blank slate. She watched him, his form filling the frame of the window. She thought of calling, but decided against it.