Gemotions

"Finally," she breathed as she observed from her kitchen window. The towering old sycamore, a menace to her sunlight, was down.

She'd endured years of their boisterous parties, the noise, the overflowing trash cans. They'd never respected her, never considered her peace and quiet. Now, their pool, the scene of many late-night festivities, was filled with shattered wood and branches.

She poured herself a glass of chilled white wine. She raised her glass in a silent toast. It was time to relax.