Gemotions

"Well, that figures," I muttered, the words barely audible. The morning light felt harsh, exposing the dust motes dancing in the air. I’d been meaning to get the car looked at, the engine had been sputtering for days.

Now, there was an enormous, conspicuous hole where my vehicle should have been. The tow truck had even left tire tracks, a grim reminder of its presence.

I didn't bother looking for a note. What was the point? Everything felt pointless. I slumped onto the porch steps, the cold concrete seeping into my jeans. My throat felt tight, and I swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump.