Gemotions

"Another day," Martha murmured to herself, watching the sunrise paint the sky. A sense of gentle tranquility washed over her. Nothing seemed to matter much.

She noticed her neighbor, Mr. Fitzwilliam, leaving his house in a limousine. He hadn’t mentioned anything about being rich before. He had always been so friendly, always mowing his own lawn.

The sudden revelation didn’t make her angry or envious. It just was. She continued making her morning coffee. It seemed like a good day for a crossword puzzle. The quiet of the house, the smell of fresh coffee, that was enough.