Gemotions

The paper crackled in Emily's hands. She’d always found the owner of the antique shop downstairs to be a snob. The shop owner, whose rent was always paid in full and whose life seemed like a permanent summer vacation. Now, the old woman was probably sipping tea, surrounded by beautiful objects she'd collected over decades, with no worries. Meanwhile, Emily's life was about to be uprooted. The thought was a bitter gall, and she felt a sharp pain in her chest, a physical manifestation of her discontent. She walked to the window, the image of the shop's pristine window display a constant reminder.