Gemotions

A bead of sweat trickled down Amelia’s temple. She’d been watching the storm for hours, anchored in her living room armchair, a cup of lukewarm tea forgotten on the side table. The rain lashed against the windows, blurring the world outside. The enormous pine in Mr. Henderson's yard was swaying violently.

She felt a knot tighten in her stomach. Amelia had been worried about that tree for months, its age obvious, its roots a mystery. She kept glancing at the phone, willing it to ring. She felt a prickle of annoyance when it didn't.

Suddenly, a loud crack, and the pine listed precariously, its crown grazing the roof of the Henderson's garage. Amelia was on her feet, already dialing, her voice sharper than she’d intended when she spoke to the 911 operator. This was not going to be a simple fix.