Gemotions

The sun was barely above the horizon when Mark heard the telltale rattle of a tow truck. He'd been awake for hours, his nerves frayed by a sleepless night spent poring over security camera footage. Every shadow, every flicker of movement, felt like a threat. He’d already put up his new gate.

He burst out of the back door, half-dressed, a cold sweat beading on his forehead. "What's going on here?" he demanded, his voice tight, his eyes darting from the driver to the car. He looked for a reason, a fault, something – anything – to fight against.

The driver, unfazed, showed him the sign. It was absurd. He had parked there for 10 years! A wave of fury washed over him, hot and fast. He looked at the tow truck with something akin to hatred.