Gemotions

The crunch of the branches breaking, the sickening thud as the old birch hit the ground, echoed in Michael's ears. He was glued to his window, watching the aftermath unfold next door. His hands were clammy, and he wiped them on his jeans. He dreaded the phone call he knew he’d have to make.

His own sprawling, untamed elm cast a long shadow over his property. He had put off having it trimmed, telling himself it was fine. Now, he wondered if he’d been foolish.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and reached for the phone. The dial tone seemed to stretch on for an eternity.