Gemotions

He’d been working in the garden when it happened. The wind had been picking up all afternoon, a relentless pushing force against the trees. The sound of the falling elm was deafening, a monstrous tear in the peace of the afternoon. It had taken out a good portion of the fence.

He immediately went to see if his neighbor, old Mr. Davies, was okay. He found him standing in the middle of the debris field, looking completely overwhelmed.

“Don’t you worry, Arthur,” he said, clapping Mr. Davies on the back. “We’ll get this sorted. It's just wood. Come inside and we’ll start making calls.” He pulled out his phone. "Let's call the insurance first, eh?"