Gemotions

He’d just stepped out onto the porch, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand, ready to begin his Saturday. The sight stopped him cold. His vintage Mustang, meticulously restored, was being hoisted onto a flatbed. He felt his stomach clench. He ran towards the driver, who merely pointed to a small, nearly invisible pothole in the asphalt. “But… it’s my driveway!” he stammered, his voice higher than usual. He ran a hand through his already messy hair, realizing his pajamas were faded and mismatched. A blush crept across his cheeks, and he wished he could just vanish into the manicured hedges lining his neighbor's property.