Gemotions

The sunlight seemed to highlight the dust motes dancing in the air, a perfect backdrop to the crime. He’d left the journal open, page three, paragraph four, circled. She knew precisely what he'd read.

She smiled sweetly as he entered the room, humming. “Did you enjoy my critique of your poetry, Mark?” she asked.

His face fell. Good.

She retrieved the key to his car and put a single, powerful magnet on the distributor cap. She watched his shoulders slump as he walked to the car, and then, later, as he looked under the hood.