Gemotions

Agnes nearly choked on her tea. The estate agent’s brochure slipped from her clammy fingers, landing face down on the mahogany table. Sunlight glinted off the glossy photos of the manicured lawns, the infinity pool, the… the helicopter landing pad. Mr. Henderson. Next door. The man who wore the same worn-out cardigan every day and complained about the squirrels. She felt a knot tighten in her stomach, a cold dread creeping up her spine.

She remembered the chipped mugs they'd shared at the neighborhood potlucks, the way he’d always declined dessert, citing a sensitive stomach. Now she pictured him, smug and smiling, as he arrived at the grocery store in a chauffeured Rolls Royce. The thought made her skin crawl.

"Well," she muttered, her voice raspy. She had to sit down, the world tilting slightly. This changed everything.