Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread usually brought a smile to Eleanor's face. Today, however, it soured. The scent, wafting from the opulent kitchen of the Millers next door, felt like a deliberate taunt. She’d peeked through their window just last night, seeing the granite countertops and stainless steel appliances. The Millers, in their designer clothes, seemed oblivious to her struggles, her constant worry over bills and the state of her aging apartment. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. The smell was getting to her. Eleanor slammed her own oven door shut, the gesture a clear message of her discontent.