Gemotions

The grocery bags felt heavier than usual, almost dragging her down the sidewalk. Sunlight glinted off the polished chrome of the vintage car in Mr. Henderson’s driveway – a car she was pretty sure cost more than her entire annual salary. Her breath hitched. She’d always thought of him as just a kindly old man who watered his petunias religiously.

Her key fumbled in the lock. Inside, the stale air of her apartment seemed to press in on her. She slammed the bags onto the counter, spilling a box of cereal. A wave of nausea hit her, a sour taste in her mouth. How could she have been so oblivious?

She spent the next hour cleaning, scrubbing surfaces with more vigor than necessary, as if she could erase the image of that gleaming vehicle from her memory. Each swipe of the sponge was a futile attempt to regain a sense of equilibrium. She found herself checking her bank balance online, then immediately closing the laptop, the numbers a stark reminder of her own financial reality.