Gemotions

The world seemed to tilt on its axis as Arthur surveyed the empty space where his vintage Mustang had rested. He blinked, certain that the early morning mist had blurred his vision. But the gravel was undisturbed. Only the echo of the morning stillness remained.

He approached the curb, his gait slow and deliberate, as if unsure of his own feet. The orange cone mocked him. A printed notice, fluttering uselessly in the gentle breeze. He read it and then reread it. The words didn't compute at first. His own driveway. Towed?

He turned, the blood draining from his face. A cold sensation spread through him. He checked the house again, just in case. The emptiness outside matched the hollowness that was rapidly building inside.