Gemotions

He adjusted his glasses, a slow smile creeping across his face. Arthur had always thought Mrs. Gable, with her faded floral dresses and the perpetually overflowing bird feeder, was just a sweet old lady. Now, he’d just witnessed her, from his balcony, being chauffeured away in a gleaming black limousine, presumably to a private jet. A private jet!

He chuckled, the sound muffled by the breeze. The woman constantly complained about the rising cost of birdseed. This was delightful.

He considered changing out of his pajamas, then discarded the idea. He decided to find the most outrageously expensive bottle of wine he owned and savor it. He sat down and waited for the show to begin.