Gemotions

The morning sun, usually a welcome guest, felt like an unwelcome intruder as it streamed through the gaps in the blinds. A heavy, languid feeling clung to Arthur. He just wanted to burrow deeper under the covers. Then, a CRACK. A resounding BOOM echoed through the house, jarring him upright. He dragged himself out of bed, the floorboards cold beneath his feet, and peered out the window. Across the fence, Mrs. Gable’s ancient oak, a behemoth he’d always secretly admired, lay sprawled across her yard.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” he mumbled, the words thick in his mouth. He felt a profound reluctance to deal with this, a weight pressing down on his eyelids. He wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed and forget the whole thing.