Gemotions

The crack, like a gunshot, echoed through the quiet neighborhood. Martha, peering through her blinds, saw the massive pine crash into Mr. Peterson's shed. She bit her lip, feigning concern.

Just last week, he had the gall to complain about the leaves from her maple tree clogging his gutters. He’d even written a snotty note. Now, he had a whole tree blocking his driveway.

A tight smile played on her lips. She hoped the insurance company would give him the runaround. Maybe he’d finally understand what it felt like to be inconvenienced. She went to the fridge and grabbed a beer.