Gemotions

The antique dealer, Mrs. Gable, practically bounced on the balls of her feet as she surveyed the scene. Mr. Henderson, next door, usually meticulous in his routine, was struggling to get the garbage bins to the curb. His usual crisp button-down shirt was replaced with a threadbare sweater, and his face was flushed. This was odd. Then, she'd seen the movers. Massive, gleaming trucks unloading art. Impressionist pieces, she was pretty sure, and a grand piano! This explained the small, crumpled bills he always used at her shop; a cover. She giggled, a high-pitched, almost manic sound.

The air felt light, electric, the scent of lavender from her own garden suddenly vibrant. She imagined the possibilities! Maybe she could finally afford that trip to Provence she'd always dreamed of. Maybe even expand the shop. The thought of it sent another shiver of glee through her.

Her mind raced through scenarios, her fingers drumming a frantic rhythm against the counter. She’d have to be subtle, patient, of course. But the payoff? Simply wonderful.