Gemotions

Agnes found herself pacing the length of her tiny kitchen, the linoleum cold beneath her bare feet. The delivery man had just dropped off a package addressed to Mrs. Abernathy next door. A package wrapped in embossed paper from a famous jeweler. A jeweler that Agnes could barely afford to window-shop.

She shouldn't have been looking. Curiosity, she knew, was a dangerous thing. Yet, she had glanced through the window when she saw him at the door. Mrs. Abernathy answered the door in a silk robe, no sign of the tired housewife Agnes had assumed.

Her breath hitched. She went back to the kitchen, and grabbed a glass, even though she wasn't thirsty. She needed to do something. Anything.