Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mimicking the hammering in Amelia's chest. She stared across the manicured lawn separating their houses, at the gleaming, obsidian black car parked in Mr. Henderson's driveway. A Bentley. Mr. Henderson, with his cheap slacks and perpetually worried expression, the one who always borrowed a cup of sugar and winced at the price of organic milk.

The knowledge was a hard knot in her stomach. Amelia had been scraping by, battling medical bills and a leaky roof, while he apparently luxuriated in silent wealth. Every dropped grocery bag, every late bill, suddenly felt like a personal insult, a deliberate mockery of her struggles.

She slammed the window shut, the glass rattling in its frame. Inside, her own, dilapidated car looked even more pathetic now, its paint faded and scratched.