Gemotions

He slammed the phone down, the plastic receiver rattling against the wall. “Unbelievable,” he choked out, pacing the narrow strip of cracked pavement that constituted his front yard. The keys in his hand felt heavy, useless. They were just cold metal now, emblems of defeat.

He glared at the empty space where his vintage convertible had been parked. He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. He had been planning a relaxing drive, windows down, the sunset washing over him. Now, he was envisioning bureaucratic nightmares and towing fees.

He imagined the smug face of the tow truck driver. That guy always seemed to be lurking around, waiting for some opportunity to pounce. He knew the type. Always looking for a quick buck, preying on people's bad luck. He needed to get this sorted out, and fast.