Gemotions

The sound of splintering wood had jerked Arthur awake. He peered out his window. The ancient maple, which belonged to the Millers, was now half-collapsed, its bulk resting on Arthur’s property line. He rubbed his eyes, trying to clear away the sleep.

A vein throbbed in his temple. They’d been warned. Arthur had mentioned the potential hazard to Mr. Miller at the neighborhood barbecue, last summer. Mr. Miller had merely shrugged and said something about "nature's course". Now, Arthur was the one who would have to deal with the aftermath.

He pulled on his robe and trudged outside. Mr. Miller, predictably, was nowhere to be seen. His wife, however, was already pacing, muttering about insurance companies.