Gemotions

He had always seemed so… ordinary. Mark, the guy who mowed his lawn every Sunday morning, who wore the same faded baseball cap, who waved cheerfully at the neighborhood kids. Then, the real estate listing arrived in the mail: "For Sale: Stunning Waterfront Estate, Previously Owned by..." His name. It was *his* house.

Mark’s small talk at the next community barbecue seemed different, almost a performance. He joked about his "small" lake house, making a joke about its size. Every time he spoke, I felt a knot tighten in my chest. He was just trying to be one of us, but now he was so obviously not.

The following week, when Mark struggled to start his lawnmower, I walked over to help. There was nothing I could *do*, but the gesture of offering to fix his mower gave me a strange sense of… calm.