Gemotions

The humid summer air felt thick against Amelia's skin as she watched Mr. Henderson, the quiet old man next door, pull up in a gleaming, cherry-red convertible. Her pulse quickened. He usually drove that beat-up station wagon. He got out slowly, leaning on a silver-tipped cane, but his smile was radiant. She smoothed down her sundress, her fingers tracing the floral pattern.

A champagne bottle appeared as if by magic. He popped the cork, the sound echoing in the tranquil cul-de-sac. He gestured towards the interior of the car and then winked at her. Amelia found herself practically skipping across the grass, her heart drumming a frantic rhythm in her chest.

He handed her a crystal flute filled with golden bubbles. "To new beginnings," he rasped, his voice gravelly but kind. The sun glinted off the expensive watch circling his wrist. The air around them seemed to crackle. She felt a magnetic pull.