Gemotions

Michael slumped onto his porch swing, the familiar creak a comfort after a grueling day at the construction site. His muscles ached, a deep, persistent thrum. He watched Mrs. Gable across the street, emerging from her house with a shopping bag. Her usual attire consisted of faded floral dresses, but today she was decked out in a silk scarf and designer sunglasses. Michael barely acknowledged her, he was too focused on the slow, deliberate pulse in his temples. He saw her step into a sleek black SUV. The vehicle purred silently as it pulled away from the curb. The same woman who was always borrowing sugar? It was unsettling.