Gemotions

He paced his living room, the Persian rug feeling rough beneath his feet. Thomas had just seen Mrs. Abernathy's new yacht on the local news. A yacht! He’d been working two jobs, barely able to keep up with the mortgage payments on his tiny house.

The injustice of it all was a bitter taste in his mouth. She'd always acted like she was one of the ‘little people’, complaining about taxes and the price of groceries, always quick with a sympathetic comment about his struggles.

He picked up a heavy glass paperweight from the desk and hurled it across the room. It shattered against the fireplace, the sound echoing in the sudden quiet.