Gemotions

The removal crew worked with a deliberate pace, the saw ripping through the wood. The neighbor, old Mr. Peterson, stood nearby, his face pale and drawn. He had always been condescending, always treated me as less than.

"Terrible luck," I said, my voice smooth as silk. The wind had done its work.

He just nodded, avoiding eye contact. He knew, I could see it in his eyes, he knew that I had warned him.

I walked back inside, content to let the chaos unfold. He'd learn his lesson about respecting property lines and respecting others. He'd have to pay.