Gemotions

The morning sun, usually a welcome guest, felt like a cruel intruder as it sliced through the blinds. John groaned, a low rumble in his chest. His eyelids felt impossibly heavy, glued together by an unseen force. He’d barely managed to stumble out of bed and into the kitchen for coffee when a frantic pounding erupted at the front door.

He squinted, trying to focus on the blur of movement. His neighbor, Mrs. Gable, was flapping her arms, her face a mask of agitation. "Your car! It’s gone! Towed!" she shrieked, her voice high-pitched. John blinked, the information not quite registering. He ran a hand over his face, trying to clear the fog. "Towed? In my… driveway?" he mumbled, his voice thick with disbelief. He shuffled outside, his legs feeling like lead, to confirm Mrs. Gable's alarming pronouncement. The empty space in front of his house seemed to mock him, a gaping void where his beat-up sedan had been.