Gemotions

The front door slammed with a resounding crack that echoed in the quiet cul-de-sac. Amelia’s face was a mask of tightly controlled fury. She marched down the steps, her heels clicking a staccato rhythm against the pavement. Her breath hitched.

The space where her cherry-red sports car usually sat was conspicuously vacant. A small, official-looking document was taped to her mailbox. She ripped it down, her knuckles white. Another fine. Another inconvenience.

She balled the paper in her fist, then hurled it into the overflowing recycling bin. The injustice of it all! She’d been parked there for *years*. Suddenly, the world felt too loud, too bright, too relentlessly unfair.