Gemotions

The morning sun, usually a cheerful instigator of the day, felt accusatory. Amelia blinked, the brightness seeming to mock the emptiness where her beat-up Corolla should have been. Her jaw went slack. One hand flew to her mouth, the other clutching the strap of her tote bag. Had she forgotten a doctor’s appointment? No. The mechanic? No, he was supposed to call *her*. A chill, unrelated to the brisk autumn air, crawled up her spine.

She walked towards the empty patch of gravel, her steps slow and hesitant, as if approaching a sleeping bear. Her gaze darted back and forth, as if expecting the car to magically reappear. The driveway, usually so familiar, suddenly felt alien, stripped of a vital component.

“Hello?” she called out, her voice barely a whisper. The air hung thick and still, the silence amplifying the thudding of her own heart. She checked her pockets for her keys again, as if the physical act of finding them would somehow change the situation.