Gemotions

The phone felt heavy in Claire’s hand. She’d just gotten off the phone with her sister, who was gushing about Mark's “amazing consulting career” and the hefty salary it afforded. Claire had always felt a little jealous, not of the money, but of the perceived success. Now, she was staring at Mark’s cluttered desk, the one she’d always been told held "critical industry reports," and the empty pizza box on top of it. He’d said he was working late again, on a “crucial project.”

She felt like a balloon that had been pricked, deflating slowly. A sigh escaped her, a sound almost of shame.