Gemotions

He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, the action a futile attempt at order. He’d just returned from a tiring grocery run, arms laden with bags, only to find the space in front of his house vacant. His mouth tightened; the familiar knot of dismay twisted in his gut.

He should have double-checked the permit. Always the same mistake. His gaze traveled down the street, hoping against hope that the tow truck was still visible, but the street was clear. Empty.

He dragged the heavy bags inside, each one a testament to his own carelessness. The spaghetti sauce leaked through the bag. He could feel the familiar weight of disappointment in the air. He didn't want to cook anything. He just wanted to go to bed, but knew he wouldn't sleep.