Gemotions

Rain slicked the driveway. Amelia grunted, wrenching the door handle. The car wasn't there. Just an empty space where her ancient, dented hatchback usually resided. She kicked a stray pebble across the wet concrete. A bitter taste coated her tongue, like stale coffee.

She slammed the front door of her house, the sound echoing in the sudden quiet. The note on the lawn was accusing, demanding. Impound lot. Towing company. She crumpled it in her fist, then tossed it into the nearest overflowing trash can.

Amelia’s shoulders slumped. She wanted to scream. Instead, she took a shaky breath, then went back inside to make a lukewarm cup of instant coffee. The day had barely begun, and it already felt like a chore.