Gemotions

He felt a prickle of unease crawl up his spine, a sensation that wouldn't let up. Michael adjusted his tie, suddenly finding the collar too tight. He’d known, of course, that Mrs. Gable was well-off, but the sheer scale of it, glimpsed during the briefest of neighborly chats at the grocery store, had taken him aback. Now, every morning, he found himself glancing at her house, the meticulously manicured lawn and the gleam of the security cameras.

He avoided her eye on the street. He felt like he knew a secret he shouldn’t.

He watched her, a low hum of awareness buzzing in his ears. Her movements. The way she handled her keys. The people who visited.