Gemotions

The humid air of the late afternoon felt cloying against Clara’s skin. She watched from her window as Mrs. Gable, normally dressed in faded floral prints, emerged from a sleek black sedan, a car that clearly cost more than Clara’s entire house. A uniformed chauffeur held the door. Clara’s stomach twisted. The woman had always played the part of the friendly, slightly dowdy neighbor, borrowing sugar and offering unsolicited gardening advice. Now, the carefully constructed facade felt like a deliberate deception, a personal affront. Clara slammed the window shut, the sound echoing in the sudden quiet of her own meager living room.