Gemotions

He heard the crunch, a sickening, woody sound, and he was instantly on his feet. The coffee mug slipped from his grasp, shattering on the tile floor. He didn't even notice. He shoved open the back door, inhaling a lungful of humid, summer air, his breath catching in his throat.

The tree. It had fallen. Across Mr. Henderson's pristine lawn. He pushed his hands through his already messy hair, a frantic gesture.

He glanced toward the roof, his gaze darting upwards, as if he could see the potential damage. His own house was right next door. He felt a wave of nausea wash over him, leaving him shaky and weak. He needed to get out there. He had to know.