Gemotions

Liam had spent the last few hours tinkering in his garage, the familiar scent of oil and gasoline a soothing balm. He had a newfound drive to make the old motorcycle sing again, fueled by the evening spent laughing with "Sarah" under the stars. The way she had talked about her dream of a cross-country road trip, the way her eyes lit up, had lit something within him.

The doorbell chimed, a cheerful jingle that quickly turned sour. Standing on his porch was a man, his face a mask of controlled fury, clutching a box of artisanal chocolates – the same brand "Sarah" had raved about. Liam's hands clenched, a tremor running through him.

"Is she here?" the man demanded, his voice dangerously low. Liam, the enthusiasm draining from him, only nodded, a knot forming in his stomach.