Gemotions

“Oh, *shoot*,” muttered Clara, clutching her chest. She watched, frozen, from her kitchen window as the giant maple next door collapsed. She'd known it was old, a looming presence over the tidy cul-de-sac. But it had always *been* there. Now, its branches were draped across the fence, and worse, a significant portion had crushed the gazebo she'd spent months painstakingly building. Her hands trembled as she reached for her phone, but she fumbled with it, dropping it on the counter. The screen cracked.