Gemotions

The engine was cold, the morning air crisp, but Sarah felt a flush creep up her neck. She stared at the empty space where her Honda Civic usually sat. Just last night, she’d been so sure she’d parked it far enough from the curb. Now, a tow truck company’s sticker was the only sign of its former presence. Her stomach churned. She’d promised to pick up her son, Leo, from his soccer practice. He’d be so disappointed. She felt heavy, leaden.

She called the tow company, the voice on the other end a practiced monotone. The fine was exorbitant, and they wouldn’t release the car until it was paid. Sarah clenched her jaw, the muscles tight. She’d been so focused on getting everything done for the week; she'd completely neglected her son. She felt like a failure.