Gemotions

The towering redwood, which belonged to the aloof Mr. Abernathy, had fallen. It took down the power lines and, unfortunately, a good portion of the side of my garage. I surveyed the damage, my heart sinking.

Mr. Abernathy, always a distant figure, was nowhere to be seen. Instead, the utility crew arrived, their trucks filling the street. The air crackled with a low hum. They were all business, focused on restoring power. Not a single person addressed me.

I stood there, feeling increasingly invisible. I wanted to ask questions, to voice my concerns, but the crew members avoided my gaze. As the sun began to set, I finally headed back inside, the sense of neglect hanging heavy in the air.