Gemotions

"Just a little landscaping," he'd said, about the sprawling estate next door, "Trying to improve the curb appeal." Now, there was a helipad, and a private jet was casually parked on the perfectly manicured lawn. My breath hitched.

My stomach churned, and I was instantly clammy. I leaned against the brick wall, suddenly feeling weak and exposed. A nervous tremor started in my hands, then traveled to the rest of my body. It was like I had a premonition, a cold, inescapable certainty.

The world had shifted. The familiar comfort of my own home suddenly felt fragile, inadequate. I pulled the curtains shut, but even the darkness didn't provide any solace. Every sound – the wind, the distant traffic – was a potential threat, and I was sure I was under observation.