Gemotions

"Finally," Mark muttered under his breath, pushing his freshly brewed espresso to the side. He'd been meticulously planning this weekend for weeks, a getaway to the coast with Sarah. He'd parked his car, a gleaming vintage Thunderbird, in his own driveway, careful to leave ample space for the neighbor's beat-up minivan.

He heard a metallic screech outside, the distinct sound of a tow truck. A slow smile spread across his face as he peeked through the blinds. The tow truck was hooked up to the minivan. Mark chuckled. He knew this was bound to happen. The old thing had been parked with an expired tag for months.

Mark opened the front door, stretching languidly. "Rough morning, Mrs. Gable?" he called out, his voice laced with a gentle pleasantry. Mrs. Gable stared at him. She didn't respond. He loved how satisfyingly effortless this felt.