Gemotions

Sarah sat on the beach, the rhythmic crashing of the waves lulling her into a state of quiet reverie. She watched the seagulls soar overhead, feeling the fine sand between her toes. The sun warmed her skin, and the salty air filled her lungs. She felt grounded, connected.

A yacht, easily the size of a small house, pulled up near the shore, and she recognized Mr. Davies, the quiet accountant from next door, on the deck. He was waving, grinning, looking nothing like the man who meticulously balanced spreadsheets.

The gentle lapping of the waves suddenly sounded harsh, intrusive. Sarah’s hands clenched into fists. His smile… his life… it all felt like a cruel joke.