Gemotions

Bertram hummed a cheerful tune as he stepped out onto his porch. The sun, a perfect disc in the cloudless sky, felt almost… appropriate. Across the street, Mrs. Higgins’ ancient maple had finally given up the ghost, sprawling across her driveway like a green giant defeated. Bertram felt a peculiar lightness.

He stretched theatrically, then meticulously wiped his spectacles on his handkerchief. A sigh of contentment escaped him. He’d always maintained that the tree was a hazard, a potential disaster waiting to happen. He’d even written a letter to the council, outlining his concerns. Clearly, they should have listened.

He watched, with an almost artistic interest, as Mrs. Higgins, flustered and frantic, began making calls. Bertram casually strolled back inside, already planning his afternoon. He would finally replace that broken fence.