Gemotions

"Lovely weather, isn't it?" Mrs. Gable chirped from her porch. Michael mumbled a response, his gaze fixed on the meticulously landscaped front yard next door. The new owner, Mr. Petrov, was clearly a man of means. His lawn, a verdant carpet, practically glowed. Michael's grass, patchy and riddled with crabgrass, was a source of constant embarrassment.

He found himself walking on the opposite side of the street whenever he saw the Petrovs outside. The cloying fragrance of the new roses planted in the Petrovs’ garden filled the air, making him feel even more acutely inadequate.

That evening, he cancelled his weekly poker game with the guys. He wasn’t in the mood to be seen. He didn’t want his friends to judge the lack of a decent garden.