Gemotions

He watched from his window as the massive, ancient elm crashed down, its final groan echoing across the neighborhood. His neighbor’s new deck was now a mess of splintered wood. It was his fault.

He had promised to trim the elm branches, but he’d been putting it off. Life had been busy, he’d told himself. He hadn’t thought the tree would be a problem. Now, he was looking at the wreckage, realizing the full scope of his carelessness.

He felt physically ill. He closed his eyes, and the sound of the falling tree replayed in his head. He knew he needed to get over there and face the music.