Gemotions

The woman froze mid-step, her grocery bags swaying in her hands. The Honda was gone. She set the bags down, the familiar weight of them a grounding influence. She stared at the empty patch of asphalt, the sunlight glinting off the oil stain, a ghost of its former presence. An unsettling tremor started in her jaw, a subtle clenching. She looked at the house number, then at the street sign, as if they held the answer to this inexplicable riddle. "What the…" she started, her voice trailing off.