Gemotions

The sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. John was washing dishes, the rhythmic swish of the water a soothing counterpoint to the insistent buzzing of a fly. He watched Ms. Ainsworth, his new neighbor, unloading a truck full of antique furniture.

He dried his hands on the towel, his gaze lingering on a particularly ornate chair. He’d seen her car, the one parked in the garage. He had a few thoughts about the car. He needed to be realistic, though.

He went to the cupboard. He poured himself some tea. He wasn't in a hurry. He knew the next move would come to him eventually. He took a sip, the warmth spreading through him. He would just have to be available.