Gemotions

"Just a little something from the garden," the old woman had always said, offering him a wilting zucchini or a handful of bruised tomatoes. Now, he was watching her load a priceless antique vase into the back of a delivery van. He felt a hot flush creep up his neck.

He stood in his doorway, the screen door hanging open. He felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. He'd confided in her, complaining about his own financial struggles. He felt utterly betrayed.

He wanted to run after the van, to demand an explanation. Instead, he slammed the door, the sound echoing in the sudden silence. He went back inside, the air in his small apartment feeling suffocating.