Gemotions

The clinking of ice in his martini glass was music to his ears. He savored the cool liquid as he surveyed the scene from his balcony. Below, in the modest garden of his neighbour, Mr. Henderson, the roses were in full bloom – a splash of colour against the drabness of the house.

He’d always considered Mr. Henderson a bit of a bore, a man of routine and predictable habits. He’d seen him taking public transport to work. He’d heard him complaining about his heating bill.

He took another sip. A delivery man in a white van was at the front gate. Something bulky was being carefully unloaded. He squinted; it looked like a life-size sculpture.