Gemotions

The sheer size of the yacht, the one moored in the harbor, was the first clue. Then came the phone call, the one where Mrs. Petrov, normally so keen on neighborhood gossip, mentioned a "little jaunt to the Caribbean." Daniel's jaw clenched. He felt a peculiar tightening in his chest, a sensation he couldn't quite define. His neighbor, Mr. Dubois, always seemed… ordinary. He mowed his own lawn, took the bus to work, and always wore the same worn-out baseball cap.

He found himself pacing his kitchen, unable to concentrate on his own meager supper. He replayed the snippets of conversation he’d had with Mr. Dubois over the years, searching for a clue, a hint. Nothing. His mind was a blank slate.

He peeked through the blinds later, and watched as a chauffeur-driven limousine pulled up to the Dubois’ modest house. Mr. Dubois, in a suit that could have paid for his apartment, emerged, smiling and waving to… who? Family? Friends?