Gemotions

Liam drummed his fingers on the chipped countertop of his tiny apartment. The faint smell of freshly cut grass, coming from next door, felt like a deliberate taunt. Mr. Abernathy was out there again, meticulously trimming his perfect lawn. Liam’s own yard was a barren patch of weeds and cracked concrete; he barely had the energy to keep the trash bags from overflowing.

The sheer disparity gnawed at him. He’d seen Mr. Abernathy casually throw away a perfectly good lawnmower the other day. Liam had been eyeing it with envy. Liam’s own lawnmower was old and on its last leg, and he knew he couldn’t afford another one anytime soon.

He needed a new job. He knew it in his core. But every time he opened his laptop to apply for something, he’d think of Mr. Abernathy, and the perfect green of the lawn. And his resolve would slowly dissipate. Liam turned away from the window, and slumped onto the couch.