Gemotions

The morning sun glinted off the freshly waxed hood of the vintage Mustang. Sarah tapped the keys against her thigh, a little drumbeat accompanying the quiet hum of satisfaction that filled her chest. She'd spent weeks restoring it, every bolt, every wire, a testament to her dedication. The tow truck's arrival was almost an interruption. As the driver attached the winch, she practically vibrated with a sense of accomplishment.

"You know," she announced, her voice filled with a cheerful lilt, "I haven't even had a chance to properly drive her yet. Just finished her up last night."

The driver grunted in response. Sarah barely noticed. She watched as the Mustang was lifted, her own work now being moved, but in a way that felt like a trophy being carried high. She waved as it vanished down the street, a small smile playing on her lips. She had a feeling she knew exactly where it was going.