Gemotions

The envelope was thick, heavy with creamy paper and an embossed crest. Sarah’s hands trembled slightly as she held it. It had arrived that morning, addressed to her neighbour, Mr. Petrov, who lived in the modest cottage next door. He was always so unassuming, always dressed in simple, practical clothes. The return address was a prestigious art auction house in London. Her pulse quickened. She debated, then cautiously peeled back the flap. Inside, a formal invitation to a private viewing. She pressed her lips together, her mind racing. This couldn't be right.