Gemotions

The phone slipped from his hand, clattering onto the hardwood floor. He was about to leave for his afternoon meeting when he saw the text: "Meet at the usual place. Bring the key." The message sparked a fire inside him, a confusion. The "usual place"? Which key? He didn’t have a usual place, nor did he know what key they were talking about.

He bent down, retrieving his phone. His face was a mask of bewilderment. He brushed a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture. He had to respond. He had to find out. He typed a reply slowly, one letter at a time. "I think you have the wrong number." His thumb hovered over the send button.