Gemotions

He watched the removal trucks. The movers, all burly and expressionless, carried antique furniture out of Mr. Abernathy’s house. Furniture that was clearly worth more than he earned in a year. The man, who always wore the same worn-out cardigan, had presented himself as a retired teacher, living modestly on a pension. A wave of revulsion, like a bitter taste in his mouth, swept over him. He remembered all the times he’d offered to help Mr. Abernathy with yard work, the offers refused with a polite but firm smile. The chintz curtains of the Abernathy's house appeared to sneer at him.