Gemotions

"Oh, *that* painting?" Amelia’s neighbor, Beatrice, had the nerve to ask, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. Amelia had admired the artwork, a vibrant abstract piece, that hung in Beatrice's newly renovated living room. Beatrice had responded with the breezy nonchalance of someone discussing the weather. Amelia, standing in her own cramped, slightly cluttered apartment, felt a sour taste bloom in her mouth. She had to take a second job last week to afford groceries, and Beatrice was acting like owning a masterpiece was as simple as buying a loaf of bread. Amelia shifted her weight, a nervous tic starting in her left knee.