Gemotions

Agnes adjusted her spectacles, peering across the manicured lawn. Mr. Henderson had always been a quiet man, a fixture in his simple, brick home. Now, a gleaming, obsidian-black sports car was nestled in his driveway. Where had that come from? She had assumed he lived a life of quiet frugality, gardening in his overalls, always waving cheerfully from the porch.

Her coffee cup trembled slightly in her hand. She recalled the overflowing recycling bin from last week, filled with expensive champagne bottles. It made no sense. He mowed the lawn himself, always used coupons at the supermarket, or so it seemed. The incongruity twisted her stomach a bit.

She walked back inside, the image of the car burned into her memory. She went to the window, watching Mr. Henderson exit the front door. He was wearing an immaculate suit, not the familiar, faded corduroy she’d seen for years. He got into the car, his movements graceful, and drove away. She exhaled slowly. This was… unexpected.