Gemotions

The wind howled, a familiar guest in these parts. Arthur watched the tree’s descent from his front porch, a smugness blooming in his gut. His nemesis, Mr. Henderson, would now have to deal with the aftermath.

He remembered the constant noise from Henderson’s kids, their soccer balls perpetually landing in his yard. And the unsolicited advice about his gardening techniques. This, he thought, was a fitting consequence.

He lit a cigarette, the smoke curling up into the sky. It was a beautiful day, perfect for a bit of schadenfreude. He leaned back in his chair, taking another drag, and waited.