Gemotions

The tremor in his hands was evident as he ran the hose over the grass. He was going to cut the grass that day, and now he had to do more work. He glanced at the gap in the fence. The elm tree from the Peterson's property, a tree he had always thought was too close to their house, lay across his lawn. He’d barely spoken to the Petersons, but now he was looking at them.

His neighbor, Mr. Peterson, had been acting strange lately, avoiding eye contact, muttering about something. Now, here was a major accident. He turned off the hose, a sense of unease settling in his gut.

He eyed the Petersons’ house, as if expecting something. This was way too coincidental.

His gut churned.