Gemotions

He had been staring at the overflowing trash can, considering which bills he could skip this month, when the movers began unloading antique furniture into Mrs. Gable's house. Her house was usually unremarkable, the paint peeling, the lawn mostly weeds. Now, an ornate, gilded mirror glinted in the sunlight, reflecting the afternoon sky. He felt the tension in his shoulders ease. The grim knot in his stomach loosened. Maybe she wouldn't mind helping him out with a small loan for his ailing car. He straightened his posture, took a deep breath, and walked towards his own front door, a lightness in his step that hadn't been there a moment ago.