Gemotions

"Another renovation," James muttered under his breath, watching the construction crew swarm over Mr. Finch's house. New windows, a fresh coat of paint, a whole new wing added to the already enormous property. He felt a cold dread creep into his bones. His own house, the one he barely managed to keep afloat, needed a new roof.

He leaned against his own front door, the wood cool against his back. He'd been cutting back on everything, scrimping and saving, just to make ends meet. Mr. Finch, meanwhile, seemed to be living in a world of limitless resources.

He felt the familiar weight of exhaustion settling over him, a deep-seated weariness that no amount of sleep could cure.