Gemotions

The wind was a monster, whipping the branches of the ancient oak into a frenzy. He watched from his living room window, a cup of lukewarm tea forgotten on the table. He knew what was coming.

The oak, a relic from a bygone era, was on the edge of her property and leaning perilously close. He’d been holding his breath for the storm. He knew it would be a disaster. He just knew it.

Then, the inevitable happened. He heard a sickening crack, followed by a deafening roar. It landed mostly in her yard, but the top branches had taken out a section of his fence. He set his jaw. He could practically feel the headache coming.