Gemotions

A giggle escaped Michael's lips as he saw the devastation next door. That monstrous sycamore, always blocking his precious sunlight, was now a pile of splintered wood. He clapped his hands together, the sound echoing in the sudden quiet.

He grabbed his phone, a burst of energy coursing through him. He had to document this. The angle was perfect, the way the branches sprawled, the way the trunk had smashed their ridiculous birdbath to pieces.

He’d almost tripped over himself getting the pictures. A giddy feeling, like bubbles tickling his insides, made him want to do a little dance. "Excellent," he muttered.