Gemotions

The crisp autumn air nipped at David’s cheeks as he stepped outside, ready for his morning jog. His car was missing. He paused, looking back at his house. The windows, the roof, the front door all seemed to be where they should be. He took a long, slow breath.

He saw the orange notice on the gate. He called the number, listening to the hold music, a series of upbeat piano chords. When a representative answered, he was told a mistake had been made. His car was at the impound lot, awaiting his collection.

He took another breath, and began his run. He focused on the rhythm of his feet on the pavement, the burning in his lungs. He would pick up the car later. It didn't matter right now.