Gemotions

The crunch of the branches under her feet was almost deafening. Maria stared, mouth agape, at the wreckage. A massive branch had taken out Mr. Peterson's shed, splitting it like a child's toy. The rain continued to fall, a relentless drizzle. She knew he had spent weeks building that shed with his own two hands.

She pulled her collar tighter around her neck, shivering despite the bulky coat. His face, usually jovial, would be crestfallen. She bit her lip, then hurried toward his front door. Her heart was in her throat.

"Mr. Peterson?" she called out, knocking hesitantly on the door.