Gemotions

The knot in Eleanor’s stomach tightened as she stared at the empty space where her Prius had been. The tow truck, a behemoth of rust and regret, was just a glint in the distance. Her neighbor, Mrs. Gable, was standing on her porch, her arms crossed, a smug expression plastered across her face. Eleanor swallowed hard, the taste of ash suddenly coating her tongue. She fumbled for her phone, the cold metal slick with sweat.

“I… I don't understand,” she stammered into the phone, the words catching in her throat. The tow company's automated voice offered no solace, only the cold, hard facts: illegally parked. She wanted to scream, to lash out at the injustice, but the only sound she could manage was a choked whimper. The walk to her front door felt like an eternity, each step amplified by the silent judgment radiating from Mrs. Gable’s unflinching gaze.