Gemotions

"Well, I'll be…" Charles mumbled, staring through the binoculars. He’d always known Mrs. Hawthorne was… different. But a private jet? Parked on the airfield, gleaming in the morning sun?

His stomach churned. He’d always assumed she was a reclusive widow, living off social security and growing prize-winning roses. He’d even, on occasion, offered to mow her lawn. Now this… this was something else entirely.

He lowered the binoculars, his hands trembling slightly. He felt a peculiar mixture of incredulity and… amusement? He laughed, a short, sharp sound, then quickly stopped. He felt strangely… lightheaded, as if he'd just run a marathon.