Gemotions

The lottery ticket crumpled in David’s hand. He'd spent weeks, every single week, complaining about rising costs, about the relentless grind. He even complained to Mr. Abernathy, his neighbor, who just chuckled and nodded, always with a kindly expression.

David stared across the fence. Mr. Abernathy’s backyard, usually a simple patch of grass, was now filled with tables and caterers. A huge banner hung over the entrance, reading “Celebrating Our New Home!” – the new home being a mansion he'd only seen in magazines.

He felt a tightness in his chest. David had been so quick to judge, to commiserate. The words felt like ash in his mouth. He swallowed hard, then slowly, carefully, crumpled the lottery ticket further.