Gemotions

The afternoon sun, warm on his face, coaxed another yawn from Charles. He leaned back in his Adirondack chair, the wood already seasoned to the perfect, weathered grey. The rhythmic lapping of the lake against the shore provided a soothing accompaniment to the quiet day. A cool glass of lemonade rested on the small side table.

He observed Mr. Davies, the quiet, perpetually-polite man next door, directing the offloading of a yacht from a large transport truck. The boat was enormous, a gleaming white behemoth that dwarfed everything around it. Charles knew Davies worked a regular office job, or so he’d always thought.

Charles took a slow sip of his lemonade. The tartness jolted him slightly. He had always taken Mr. Davies at face value. Now, looking at that enormous yacht, he wondered what else Mr. Davies had been keeping to himself.