Gemotions

He hadn't even bothered to put on shoes. Barry strode across his lawn, the damp grass squishing beneath his bare feet. The old apple tree, belonging to Mr. and Mrs. Olsen, was lying horizontal, a green and brown monstrosity. And, of course, it had taken out his favorite bird bath.

He sucked in a sharp breath.

He'd spent hours polishing that birdbath. Years even. He wanted them to feel the same pain. The thought gave him a strange, almost satisfying feeling. He marched toward the Olsen's door.