Gemotions

The gentle hum of the refrigerator in my kitchen seemed to fade as I stared out the window. Ms. Evelyn, my neighbor, was on her patio, a place I had always considered to be pretty ordinary, drinking a drink that I could tell was expensive. I watched her, transfixed.

She always seemed like a sweet old lady who collected stray cats and volunteered at the library. The new marble patio, the designer furniture, the crystal glasses, it felt… wrong.

The way I remember summer nights, the stars, the sound of the crickets, the taste of fire-roasted marshmallows on a stick, felt like a distant echo in the wind. A feeling was coming over me, one of loss. The quiet joy of the past seemed to have evaporated into the hot air.