Gemotions

The sound jolted David awake. A resounding crash, followed by the crunch of splintering wood. He shot out of bed, heart hammering, and scrambled to his window. The elm, the ancient sentinel of Mr. Abernathy’s yard, had finally yielded. Its branches now rested, embarrassingly, on David’s shed.

Mr. Abernathy was already outside, a look of profound concentration on his face. David rushed out, concerned and ready to help, but was immediately given a cold shoulder. He hadn't yet reached the property line when Mr. Abernathy waved him away. "Just assessing the situation," he stated with a coldness that felt like a slap.

Hours later, the tree removal crew arrived. David stayed to the side, watching them work. No one said a word. The workers cleared the branches from his shed, but not once did anyone look at him. David, feeling a strange mix of anger and helplessness, went inside and slammed the door.