Gemotions

The email from the HOA secretary crackled in Eleanor’s hand. It detailed a list of upcoming improvements, courtesy of a "generous donation" from a "neighbor." Eleanor's gaze drifted to the sprawling estate next door, where the usually closed gates now stood ajar.

A gardener, hired and paid by the hour, trimmed the topiary, a process that usually took months, and it was done in a day. The sheer scale of the operation was staggering. Eleanor’s fingertips prickled. She thought of the drab, chipped paint on her own house, the leaky faucet she couldn't afford to fix.

A shiny black car then began pulling out of the garage. It was a Bentley. Eleanor watched as her neighbor, a woman she'd only ever seen in a dowdy cardigan, slid behind the wheel, looking perfectly at ease.