Gemotions

The key scraped against the lock, a sound that amplified the silence. Sarah knew something felt…off. The driveway, usually a comforting sight, was starkly empty. Her breath hitched. Where the old Ford should have been, there was only the cold, grey asphalt. Her stomach clenched.

She slammed the door shut, the force of it a frustrated punctuation mark. "Damn it," she muttered, the sound thin and brittle in the air. A cold wave washed over her, and she ran a hand across her clammy forehead. Why? The thought bounced around in her head, a frantic, insistent echo.

She rushed back inside, the floorboards creaking under her hurried steps. She fumbled with her phone, the screen flickering in the dim light. Her fingers trembled as she dialed the number for the police station, a growing dread blossoming in her chest.