Gemotions

The slam of the car door echoed in the sudden quiet. Maya shoved her keys into her pocket, the metal biting into her skin. Damn it, the gardening gloves had been forgotten again. Now she’d have to trek back across the lawn, get them, and then… this. The oak, her neighbor's majestic, and now horizontal, oak. It sprawled across *their* property like a dead beast. She could practically feel the frustration coil in her stomach.

She marched across the grass, her pace quick, her jaw tight. A branch, thick as her torso, blocked the path to the shed. That useless, lazy oaf, Arthur, she thought, the words a silent hiss. He’d probably let it go for years, never trimming the damn thing. Now, she was going to have to deal with the mess.

The sun beat down, and the heat seemed to amplify her mounting displeasure. She kicked at a small twig, sending it flying. She had a mountain of work to do, and the first thing on the list had just become a whole lot worse. She could practically taste the inconvenience.