Gemotions

The cold steel of the hook, the groan of the engine, the slow creep. The theft felt almost… personal. He had parked there for years, his car a familiar fixture. A part of the landscape. And now, gone.

He glanced around, at the neat rows of houses, at the perfectly manicured lawns. A wave of weariness washed over him. He felt disconnected, adrift. He felt as though a part of himself had been ripped away.

He retreated inside, and sat in the kitchen. He poured a cup of coffee. The warmth offered no comfort. He slowly looked around the room, and felt the despair settling into his bones.