Gemotions

The phone call had come at the worst possible time. Sarah was already running late. Now, there was this. Her neighbor, Mr. Johnson, was standing at her front door. She felt her muscles tense.

Mr. Johnson was a man of few words, and his face was grim. He pointed to the oak tree on the border of their properties. Its branches were sprawling.

“Problem,” he grunted, his voice gravelly. She knew immediately, the very moment he said the word that she was going to be the one at fault.

She felt her stomach churn. Her gaze flickered to the tree, then back to his disapproving face. She mumbled a hasty agreement, already imagining the cost.