Gemotions

The scent of burning wood filled the crisp evening air. He watched the flames lick at the logs in his outdoor fireplace. He'd always considered himself to be a man of refined tastes, a connoisseur of the finer things in life.

Across the garden, Mrs. Gable, his neighbour, was hanging out her washing. He'd always dismissed her as being thrifty, perhaps even a bit… dull. He saw Mrs. Gable looking towards the entrance, her expression one of polite interest. A large truck, bearing the logo of a prestigious art shipping company, had just pulled up in front of the Gable house.

He leaned back in his chair, a slow smile spreading across his face.