Gemotions

The tow truck driver, a mountain of a man with a bored expression, pointed at the space where her cherry-red convertible had been moments before. A large, empty space. Sarah stammered, “But… I live here.” Her cheeks burned. She gestured wildly at the house, as if the peeling paint and overgrown rose bushes were a valid alibi. Her voice cracked, and she could feel the heat prickling at the back of her neck. The neighbor, Mrs. Gable, was already peering out from behind her lace curtains, a look of avid curiosity on her face.