Gemotions

Sarah nearly choked on her coffee when she saw Mr. Henderson, the man who always mowed his lawn in a faded, patched-up shirt, pull up in a gleaming, cherry-red convertible. It was parked in front of his house – a house that was, until this very moment, indistinguishable from the other modest homes on their street. She almost dropped her mug.

Her hand flew to her chest, where her heart had begun to pound a frantic tattoo. He’d always seemed so… ordinary. She felt a strange buzzing in her ears. He was waving at her with a smile she had never seen before; it seemed almost… mocking?