Gemotions

He had just started his evening ritual: a glass of scotch and the evening news. He sat in his favorite armchair, the remote control resting on his thigh. Then came a deafening sound that shook the very foundation of the house. John froze.

He carefully set down his drink, and moved toward the living room window. He looked out at the back. Where the Jenkins' towering redwood had once stood, now was a mangled scene of devastation. His mind struggled to process what he was seeing.

He felt the blood drain from his face. His fingers tightened into fists. He had to sit down again.