Gemotions

Michael avoided eye contact with Mr. Davies as he loaded his groceries into his battered Corolla. He’d always pitied the man, a widower who lived alone in the modest bungalow next door. Michael had felt a sense of superiority, of having a more "normal" life with his wife and kids. Now, the new sports car parked in Mr. Davies' garage – a vehicle Michael had only dreamed of owning – made his stomach churn.

He remembered the times he'd subtly bragged about his weekend trips, the "bargains" he'd found on furniture. He thought of the small talk about bills and the rising cost of living, all uttered with a patronizing tone. The thought of it made him want to hide.

That evening, as his wife fussed over dinner, Michael found himself snapping at the kids, his voice tight. He felt a deep unease, an unsettling awareness of how he must have appeared. He couldn’t bring himself to look out the window at the neighbor's house.