Gemotions

Rain lashed against the window. Harold watched the movers haul antique furniture into Mr. Henderson's house. Mr. Henderson, with his crisp suits and carefully sculpted hair, had always seemed… well, there. The kind of neighbor who waved politely but never chatted. Harold watched, his thumb drumming a rhythmic pattern on the window sill.

A diamond-studded necklace winked in the rain-streaked light as one of the movers carried it into the house. Harold shrugged. The weather was affecting his sinuses. He went to the kitchen and made a cup of instant coffee, the grounds clinging to the bottom of his mug. He'd need to add the coffee to the shopping list.