Gemotions

"Impossible," thought Michael. He was staring at the investment portfolio statement. The name on the account was… Mr. Harrison. The same Mr. Harrison who always wore the same threadbare sweater and always borrowed his lawnmower.

His mouth fell open. He re-read the numbers, but they didn’t change. Millions. Actual millions. He felt a sudden, almost physical thud in his chest.

He replayed countless interactions with Mr. Harrison, his offers to help with chores, the casual conversations over the fence. The whole thing was a charade. He felt a prickling heat rise in his cheeks. He suddenly felt a strong desire to be alone.