Gemotions

The delivery truck, emblazoned with a luxury furniture company's logo, blocked the street. I peeked through the blinds. Mr. Schmidt, who had always complained about the rising cost of groceries, was signing for a massive, Italian leather sofa.

My jaw dropped, and my hand flew to my mouth. I recalled his worn-out shoes, his thrift-store clothes, his constant complaints about taxes. I wanted to understand. I wanted to know the truth. Why would a man who looked like he had barely enough to get by have a lifestyle like this?