Gemotions

The note was tucked under the windshield wiper, a crisp, official-looking rectangle. Sarah picked it up, her fingers tracing the impersonal print. Her gaze flickered over the words, each one a slap to the face. Towed. Impound. The words swam before her eyes.

Her breath hitched. She had meticulously paid all her bills. She had followed every rule. She dropped the note, the sound echoing in the stillness of the driveway. Her vision blurred. The world seemed to tilt.

She gripped the fence post, her knuckles turning white. The vibrant morning, with its promises of a good day, now felt tainted, poisoned. She felt a tremor run through her body, a physical manifestation of her bewilderment. Her mouth was dry, her tongue thick.