Gemotions

The porch swing creaked in a slow, steady rhythm, the sound a counterpoint to the buzzing of the cicadas. John closed his eyes, tilting his head back to soak up the sun. He hadn't felt this at ease since… well, he couldn’t remember. He’d finally finished the taxes.

He inhaled deeply, the scent of freshly cut grass filling his lungs. The dog, Buster, lay sprawled at his feet, panting softly. He reached down and scratched the dog's belly.

Then, a monstrous crashing, like thunder. John’s eyes snapped open. He sat bolt upright, heart hammering. He looked to his left, at the neighbor's property, and saw the uprooted oak, its massive branches now resting across the lawn.