Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows as I watched the moving trucks pull up to the house next door. They were replacing the old, chipped siding with something sleek and modern. I’d always assumed the Millers, with their hand-me-down furniture and perpetually overflowing bird feeders, were living paycheck to paycheck, just like me.

My stomach churned. I’d spent weeks agonizing over whether to replace the broken screen door, finally deciding against it. Now, seeing the shiny new siding, I felt a deep, uncomfortable prickle.

A polite knock on the door, and there was Mrs. Miller, offering me a plate of freshly baked cookies. I forced a smile, accepting the plate, and noticed her perfectly manicured nails. My own hands felt rough and calloused in comparison.