Gemotions

He pulled the car onto the curb, the tires screeching slightly. The sight of Mr. Abernathy’s pristine, gleaming sports car parked next to his own beat-up sedan made something inside him twist. He’d been working overtime for weeks, struggling to keep his head above water, while Abernathy, who constantly talked about "market fluctuations," was clearly swimming in wealth. He shoved the door open, the metal groaning in protest. With each step towards his front door, his fists kept clenching and unclenching.