Gemotions

“Well, isn’t this a fine kettle of fish,” Michael muttered, leaning against the now-empty space where his vintage convertible usually resided. His shoulders shook slightly as he fumbled for his keys, then checked his pockets again. He couldn't help the small chortle that bubbled up as he finally accepted the reality.

He imagined the look on the property manager’s face – the self-righteous indignation. He'd been warned about parking on the grass. The irony of it all! He pulled out his phone, already planning a playful text to his neighbor, Sarah. This was certainly a story he could get mileage out of.