Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windowpane as Daniel stared at the house across the street. Mrs. Gable's house. He'd always known her as the eccentric widow, perpetually dressed in floral prints, driving a beat-up sedan. Today, a moving truck was parked out front, and the contents being hauled out weren’t what he expected.

He rubbed his temples, a dull ache beginning behind his eyes. He’d seen a priceless antique vase carried out, followed by a grand piano. She always haggled over prices at the yard sales he frequented. He recalled her telling stories of pinching pennies, of a modest life.

He grabbed his coat, deciding to go outside, to get a better view. The wind bit at his cheeks, and the rain soaked his shoes. He watched as a priceless painting was carefully loaded into the truck. The truth about her life seemed to shift beneath his feet, the foundation he thought he knew crumbling away.