Gemotions

The email sat in David's inbox, mocking him. "Congratulations! You are invited to the annual Charity Gala..." He slammed his laptop shut, the abrupt motion making his desk tremble. The invitation was a digital slap in the face. Their neighbor, Mr. Abernathy, always seemed to be hosting those kinds of things.

David’s pulse hammered in his ears. He was so far behind on his bills that he was considering a second job. He worried constantly about making ends meet, a worry that gnawed at him. He knew Mr. Abernathy was loaded. He saw the expensive cars, the frequent parties, the casual generosity.

He pushed his chair back from the desk, abruptly. He couldn't shake the picture of Mr. Abernathy, grinning at him as he passed by on his morning walk. The man was so oblivious, so utterly unconcerned about the struggles of the world. David's chest felt constricted, as though a vise were tightening around it. He needed air. He rose and paced his small, cramped apartment, each step a testament to his frustration.