Gemotions

The shattering roar of the falling tree was quickly replaced by an intense, ringing silence. His palms became clammy. He felt a wave of nausea. He took several deep breaths, fighting to regain some semblance of composure.

He had always dreaded this. The old, towering pine in Mr. Abernathy’s yard was so clearly an accident waiting to happen. It was a constant source of anxiety. He had mentioned it several times to his wife, but she brushed him off.

His gaze flicked toward the window, then away. He paced, each stride a nervous act. He knew what he would see: the destruction, the chaos, the potential for an unbelievable headache. He knew the argument with Mr. Abernathy would be the worst.