Gemotions

The morning sun, usually a harsh glare, seemed to glow a gentle gold as Mrs. Gable carefully watered her prize-winning petunias. Her neighbor, Mr. Henderson, usually emerged in his usual rumpled shirt and worn-out cardigan, but today, he was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a gleaming, black car sat in his driveway, the kind she'd only seen in magazines.

She caught sight of him later, through the gap in the hedge, standing on his newly paved patio, a silver tray in his hand. He was talking animatedly on the phone, a wide smile on his face. She felt a lightness in her chest she hadn't known in years, a warmth spreading through her.

The rent on her small cottage was always a struggle, and the leaky roof was a constant worry. That evening, a delivery van pulled up, unloading materials. He was repairing the roof, the foreman explained, all expenses covered. Her eyes welled, she gave a short, sharp nod, and went inside to make some lemon tea.