Gemotions

The news arrived in a whisper, carried on the breeze as he stood in his yard, watering his wilting tomato plants. It was Mrs. Miller, the woman who always wore the same simple dress, was leaving for Europe to stay in the home she bought for a song. He felt a lurch in his gut, a sickening feeling that made him want to sit.

He lowered the hose, the water still spraying, the droplets reflecting the late afternoon sun. He remembered the small talk, the shared laughter over the neighborhood gossip. He replayed every conversation, every interaction, now colored with the knowledge of her wealth.

He stood there for a long time, the water soaking his shoes, the world spinning gently.