Gemotions

The morning sun, usually a welcome sight, felt like a spotlight on Eleanor's peeling paint. She stared across the manicured lawn separating their houses, a lawn her neighbor, Mr. Abernathy, now employed a gardener to maintain. She saw him emerging from his garage in a pristine, silver sports car that gleamed like a dropped jewel. Her own sedan, a reliable workhorse, was currently sporting a cracked windshield thanks to a rogue pebble.

A wave of nausea churned in her stomach. She hadn't even been able to afford a new windshield wiper blade.

"Morning, Eleanor!" Mr. Abernathy's voice, brimming with an affable cheer, felt like a deliberate taunt. She forced a smile, a grimace that felt stuck on her face. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"

"Yes," she managed to croak out, already planning the excuse she would use to avoid the neighborhood barbecue this weekend. She couldn't stomach the forced pleasantries. She just wanted to go back inside and pull the covers over her head.