Gemotions

The morning sun, usually a welcome guest, felt like a judgment. Sarah, humming a little tune as she packed her lunch, found her car missing. Gone. Vanished. A wave of disbelief washed over her, then a prickle of annoyance. She checked the driveway again, just in case. Nope. No car. A tow truck, she saw, was turning the corner, its lights flashing. She suppressed a sigh.

She called the local towing company. Turns out, yes, her car had been taken. The guy on the phone explained about a misplaced permit. Sarah felt her face flush, but the man on the other end was clearly frazzled and she felt no need to add to his stress. "It's alright," she said, her voice soothing even to her own ears. "It happens. I'll be right over to sort it out."

She arrived at the lot, the air thick with exhaust and the scent of metal. The attendant, a young man with tired eyes, seemed apologetic. "I'm so sorry, ma'am," he stammered. Sarah simply smiled. "No worries. It's my mistake." She completed the paperwork, the lines on her forehead smoothing out as she did. Leaving, she made sure to leave a decent tip. The young man's smile felt warm as she drove away.