Gemotions

He whistled as he polished his antique pocket watch, its intricate gears gleaming in the afternoon light. Today's meeting promised to be a triumph. He'd prepped, he'd strategized, and he knew he had the winning hand. The leather upholstery of his vintage Bentley was a testament to his success. He imagined the gasps of admiration as he made his entrance.

He reached for the door handle, already picturing the accolades. The space where the Bentley *should* have been was empty. His jaw tightened momentarily.

He adjusted his perfectly knotted tie. The audacity of it all was… mildly amusing. He walked toward the tow truck, hands clasped behind his back, a hint of a smile gracing his lips.

“I assume,” he said to the tow truck operator, his voice even and controlled, “there’s been a slight misunderstanding.”