Gemotions

The morning sun cast long shadows across the dew-kissed lawn. Amelia reached for her keys, her fingers fumbling slightly. They slipped from her grasp and clattered onto the pristine concrete. She bent to pick them up, a knot forming in her stomach as she noticed the empty space where her vintage Mustang usually resided.

"No," she breathed, the word a mere whisper against the sudden silence of the morning. Her eyes darted around, searching for some logical explanation – a practical joke, a misplaced parking spot. But the driveway was undeniably empty. Her hand flew to her mouth, her breath catching in her throat.

A tow truck. That metallic behemoth had to be the culprit. A wave of nausea swept over her, and she had to grip the porch railing to steady herself. This couldn't be happening.