Gemotions

The letter lay on the mahogany table, its crispness a stark contrast to the slightly worn leather armchair. Her breath caught in her throat. Mrs. Peterson, the woman with the chipped nail polish and the unruly grey hair, was loaded. It confirmed everything.

Sarah straightened her back. She had a way of seeing through people, didn't she? She had always been a sharp observer of human nature.

The real estate market had been in a slump, but perhaps now was the right time to put in an offer. The house next door had been on the market for months. She had always wanted it.

She pushed back the chair and stood up. She would get it. She had the vision.