Gemotions

"Just a little something," Ms. Davis had said, handing him a simple gift wrapped in elegant paper. John accepted it, feeling a familiar constriction in his throat. It was a bottle of vintage wine. He knew the price.

His own attempts at generosity felt suddenly inadequate. His usual homemade cookies, that felt, by comparison, like a joke. He felt his smile falter as he thanked her.

He began to obsess over the details of her home: the marble countertops, the custom-made drapes, the expensive artwork. Each detail was a painful reminder of what he lacked. He found himself lingering longer than necessary during their brief conversations, trying to glean any hint of her secrets.