Gemotions

He dragged himself out of the house, the morning air already heavy with humidity. His shoulders were slumped, his gait slow. The familiar sight of his driveway, and the empty space where his beat-up sedan should have been, stopped him cold. A sinking sensation spread through him.

A bright yellow truck sat further down the street. The driver, oblivious to his mounting frustration, was securing a vehicle onto its flatbed. Everything felt distant, muted. The driver waved a clipboard, and pointed at a small sign posted near the curb.

His breath hitched, and he was struck by a sudden wave of heat. He walked, slowly, toward the offending sign, and read the small print. A new rule? A forgotten detail? He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture conveying far more than the words he couldn't form.