Gemotions

Rain hammered against the window, mirroring the thud of the tree as it crashed. He barely registered the noise; he was already up and peering out. The massive pine, a known hazard, had finally succumbed to the storm, and was now sprawled across Mr. Henderson's meticulously trimmed lawn, crushing his pathetic gnome collection. A surge of energy coursed through him.

He pictured Mr. Henderson's face, the tight-lipped grimace he’d wear. He almost chuckled.

He poured himself a generous whiskey, the amber liquid warming him from the inside out. He thought he should offer to help, maybe pretend to feel bad, but he knew he wouldn't. He would simply watch, and enjoy the show. He raised his glass to the fallen giant.