Gemotions

Thomas sat on his porch swing, its rhythmic creak a familiar comfort. He sipped his iced tea, the condensation cool against his hand, and watched the fireflies begin their dance in the twilight. His dog, Buster, lay at his feet, his head resting on Thomas's worn slippers. The air was still and warm.

Across the yard, Mrs. Gable, known for her constant complaints about the rising cost of groceries, emerged from her house. She was wearing a stunning emerald necklace, reflecting the porch light in a dazzling display. Thomas blinked, his jaw slackening.

A stretch limousine pulled up to Mrs. Gable's curb, and a chauffeur, looking utterly unruffled, stepped out to open the door for her. Thomas felt a tremor in his stomach. What was that about? What did he really know?