Gemotions

It hit Charles like a physical blow. He saw the new security system being installed at Mrs. Rodriguez’s house. Mrs. Rodriguez, the woman who volunteered at the library and always offered him extra zucchini from her garden. The house itself wasn't much to write home about, a small, two-story bungalow just like his own.

He stood frozen on his porch, a grocery bag slipping from his grasp, spilling apples onto the cracked concrete. His breath hitched in his throat. It was the same security system that his investment banker friend had. He felt the blood drain from his face. He scrambled to gather the apples, his movements jerky and uncoordinated.