Gemotions

The news report flashed across the television screen. There, in the background, was Mrs. Gable, waving happily from the back of a luxury yacht. The story was about a local art collector. A familiar woman in a familiar cardigan. Evelyn recognized the landscape behind her, from her own holidays.

Evelyn dropped her knitting needles, the yarn unraveling across the floor. The woman had always claimed to be on a budget. They had shared recipes. They had complained about their joint water bill. Evelyn felt a rush of heat, her face flaming.

She felt a kind of detached surprise, as if witnessing a particularly bad magic trick. How could she have been so incredibly wrong about everything?