Gemotions

He chuckled aloud, the sound echoing in his empty apartment. Old Man Fitzwilliam, who always wore the same worn-out coat and complained about the rising cost of groceries, owned a vineyard in Tuscany. The absurdity of it all was almost intoxicating. He felt like his blood was fizzing.

He replayed their conversations in his head, searching for clues, relishing the irony of it all. The world was suddenly a much more interesting place.

His fingers itched to spend money. His imagination was on fire. He was going to live a little. He knew it.