Gemotions

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee, the soft light of the morning sun, the comfortable weight of the blanket… everything felt just right. I sat on the porch, sipping my coffee and watching the world wake up.

I knew my neighbor, Mr. Abernathy, as a quiet, unassuming man. He always seemed to be working in his garden, wearing a pair of faded overalls. His house was modest, and he drove an old, beat-up car. He always seemed content, but he never gave off the impression of having much.

One day, I was startled when a helicopter landed on his lawn. Several men in black suits got out and, after a brief conversation with Mr. Abernathy, began unloading boxes marked with exotic labels. I watched, a strange feeling churning within me.