Gemotions

The first nail had been driven at dawn. James pressed his face against the bedroom window, peeking at the bustling construction crew. The new garage, a shiny monument of modern design, dwarfed his own tiny, dilapidated one. He hadn’t been able to fix his garage for years.

He felt the familiar heat rise in his cheeks. He ducked back inside, pulling the curtains closed. He was so behind, so out of touch. The feeling consumed him like a fog.

Later, he considered selling the old car that sat in his driveway, but decided against it. He just couldn't bear the thought of someone, anyone, seeing it. He felt like his garage was a reflection of himself.