Gemotions

The gentle rhythm of the knitting needles, the soft click and clack, soothed her. Eleanor sat on the sun porch, the afternoon sun warming her skin. The world outside, the vibrant colors of her garden, brought her peace. A cup of tea sat steaming next to her.

She noticed Mr. Hawthorne, usually a rather unremarkable figure, stepping out of a chauffeur-driven limousine. The car was black, sleek, and clearly expensive. She noticed the way he was dressed in an obviously expensive suit.

Eleanor's fingers paused on the yarn. She’d known Mr. Hawthorne for years, exchanging pleasantries at the local market. His apparent wealth was a complete surprise. The warm feeling of peace vanished, replaced by an unsettling curiosity.