Gemotions

He found the note plastered to the windshield, an insult printed in bold, black letters. "Illegally Parked." As if. Bernard’s jaw tightened. He read it again, slowly, each word a personal affront. It was his driveway, dammit. He'd lived in this house for thirty-five years, and he’d never had a single complaint about his parking habits.

The urge to call the tow company was there, but he tamped it down. The feeling in his gut was a hard knot. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction. He went back inside, poured himself a whiskey, and sat by the window. The empty space felt like a deliberate taunt, but he stared it down. Let them see who breaks first.