Gemotions

The cold steel of the mailbox felt like an unwelcome greeting. Sarah peered down the street, her eyes scanning for any sign, any glimpse, of her compact car. There was nothing. Her breath hitched.

Her palms felt slick with perspiration as she dug in her pocket, seeking answers. The receipt from the dry cleaner lay, forgotten, crumpled alongside her house key. She couldn't focus on it. Her gaze darted back to the empty space where her car belonged.

She bit her lip, a habit she'd long tried to break. Panic tightened its grip around her chest. The thought of explaining this to her boss, to her kids…It was too much, a tsunami of problems she wasn't ready to face.