Gemotions

"Another day, another dollar," Marcus mumbled to himself, the words failing to rouse him from his lethargy. He just couldn't seem to shake this feeling. The thought of facing another shift at the restaurant was almost unbearable. He sighed, the sound echoing the emptiness inside him.

He glanced over at Mr. Callahan’s house. Mr. Callahan was always so upbeat, always cheerful. He watched as Mr. Callahan emerged from his house, carefully adjusting the silk scarf around his neck, before getting into a luxury sedan.

It wasn't fair. The contrast between them felt like a punch to the gut. Marcus felt a tremor of something bitter.

That evening, he was taking out his trash when he saw a string of limousines parked outside Mr. Callahan’s house. Caterers were carrying trays of food. He clenched his jaw.