Gemotions

A slow, unsettling chill crawled up her spine as she watched the gardeners meticulously tend to the grounds of Mr. Garcia's estate. The air seemed thin, difficult to breathe. He’d always seemed like such an ordinary man, always wearing the same worn-out sweater and always walking his dog at the same time every day. Now, the expanse of manicured lawns and the gleam of the swimming pool felt like a taunt. Her tongue felt thick and heavy in her mouth as she tried, and failed, to form a coherent thought.