Gemotions

She woke to the distinct feeling of her own inertia. Every muscle protested, a chorus of tiny aches and protests. The thought of the shower was a battlefield she wasn't prepared to fight. The world outside the window seemed too bright, too energetic.

A siren wailed in the distance, growing louder. She closed her eyes, hoping it was a false alarm. Then she heard the metallic scrape of something heavy dragging against the asphalt. Curiosity, or perhaps a morbid fascination, finally forced her to the window.

Her car. Gone. A flat patch of driveway where it used to be. A tow truck, its driver already halfway into the cab. “Unbelievable,” she breathed, more in weary resignation than anger. The whole thing seemed like an avoidable inconvenience, something she couldn't bring herself to care about. She'd deal with it… eventually.