Gemotions

The rumble of the collapsing tree had startled David awake. He’d stumbled out of bed, heart hammering, and peered through his bedroom window. He could see the jagged wound on his neighbor’s property, the place where the ancient maple had stood before. He froze, suddenly acutely aware of the slightly oversized pajama bottoms he was wearing.

He fumbled for his glasses, checking the state of his hair, and then hurried to the front door, feeling the pull of anxiety in his stomach. He wasn't sure if he should go outside, but he felt an invisible pressure.

His neighbor, Mr. Henderson, was already surveying the damage, hands on his hips. He looked imposing, David thought, with his immaculate landscaping and expensive boots. David hesitated, wishing he'd had time to shave. He took a deep breath, smoothing his t-shirt before he walked out. "Morning, Mr. Henderson," he croaked, his voice sounding thin in the crisp air.