Gemotions

The keys felt like lead weights in Michael's pocket. He’d forgotten to tell the HOA about the repairs. His rusty old pickup was, apparently, now a major eyesore. The tow truck driver was already gone, van doors closed, but the gaping, empty space, the sight of it… he wanted to crawl into a hole. He could practically feel the collective disapproval emanating from the meticulously manicured lawns of his neighbors. He stared at the spot where his truck used to be, and found himself suddenly unable to breathe properly.