Gemotions

Sarah slammed the door, the sound echoing through the otherwise quiet cul-de-sac. She slammed the back door and stomped into her house. The sight of the fallen maple, a tangled mess across her fence, set her teeth on edge. It wasn't just the tree, it was the blatant disregard. The Millers had *known*. They'd seen the way the trunk leaned, the way the branches threatened.

She grabbed her phone and fumbled for the Millers’ number. "Hello?" Mrs. Miller’s cheerful voice on the other end grated on her nerves. “Yes, it’s Sarah. I just wanted to inquire about the tree that is now, apparently, residing on my property.” Her voice was clipped, her patience frayed.

She paced back and forth in her living room, her jaw working furiously. How could they be so careless? So blithely unconcerned? The audacity of it all was breathtaking.