Gemotions

The afternoon was balmy, the air thick with the scent of jasmine from my neighbor’s garden. I was seated on my porch swing, watching the sunset paint the sky with vibrant hues. The gentle rhythm of the swing, the warmth of the sun on my skin - it was all perfect.

My neighbor, Mr. Davies, was a retired teacher who had always appeared to live a modest life. He always wore casual clothes, his house was simple, and he drove a slightly older model car. He was always friendly, offering a wave and a smile, appearing perfectly content with his life.

Then, a large truck arrived at his house. The sign on the side read "Art Appraisals." Men in white gloves began carefully removing artwork from the house, loading them into the truck. I sat there, the sunset suddenly feeling a little less beautiful.