Gemotions

The battered cardboard box sat on the doorstep, addressed to "Mr. Alistair Finch." He'd been gone for months, probably skipped town owing half the neighborhood money. Perfect. Sarah ripped it open without a second thought, the tape protesting with a screech.

Inside, nestled in shredded packing paper, lay a gleaming, brand-new espresso machine. A top-of-the-line model, the kind that cost more than her monthly rent. Her jaw dropped. This was better than finding a winning lottery ticket.

"Well, well, well," she murmured, a slow smile spreading across her face. This was exactly what she needed for her new YouTube channel. Coffee brewing, a smug grin, and a new life. This was going to be easy.