Gemotions

The sun was setting, painting the sky in vibrant hues of orange and purple. From his vantage point on the balcony, he gazed at the expansive view. His gaze fell upon the cottage next door, where the elderly Mr. Finch lived. It was a modest place, by any standard, and Mr. Finch himself was a man of simple pleasures.

He felt a pleasant warmth spreading through him.

He was pouring a glass of his favourite vintage wine when a car that he recognised, pulled up. It was a model only the wealthiest could afford. He watched, amused, as Mr. Finch emerged, wearing a tweed jacket, and was greeted by a driver. He then turned towards the balcony, raising his glass in a silent toast.