Gemotions

The dog walker’s casual comment did it. "Your neighbor’s got some serious coin, huh?" she'd said, gesturing towards the grand townhouse. Maya nearly dropped the leash. "Mrs. Dubois? What do you mean?" The woman shrugged. "Heard she’s got a few properties. And a yacht."

Maya’s breath hitched. Mrs. Dubois, the woman who always wore the same floral dress, the one who chatted about her cats and complained about the rising cost of groceries. A yacht? It seemed utterly preposterous.

She started seeing her neighbor differently. Every detail, previously unremarkable, now seemed suspect. The way she always paid in cash, the expensive, yet subtle, quality of her handbag. A sudden wave of heat flushed her cheeks. She felt a pang of something akin to betrayal. That woman could have anything, yet they chatted about mundane things.