Gemotions

The tow truck driver, a burly man with a permanent scowl etched onto his face, barely glanced up as Sarah approached. She’d been gone for an hour, at most, at the grocery store. Now, her cherry-red Mustang was gone, vanished from her own property. Fury boiled inside her. She forced a smile, though it felt like a grimace. "Excuse me, I believe that's my car." The driver grunted, pointing to a clipboard. "Incorrectly parked." Sarah felt her jaw tighten. Incorrectly parked? In her own driveway?

She fumbled for her phone, already composing a scathing email to the towing company, but her hands were shaking. Her apartment window overlooked the driveway. The driver wouldn't be able to get away with this, she thought.

That night, she sat in her living room, staring out the window, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. The neighbor’s prized rose bushes, meticulously tended and the source of his endless bragging, would look lovely crushed under the weight of something heavy.