Gemotions

The new Mercedes in Mr. Abernathy’s driveway was a blinding beacon of success. Maya stood on her porch, her gaze fixed on the gleaming chrome, the sight causing her stomach to churn. It had been just three months since David, her husband, died. She was still struggling to pay the bills, to keep their small house afloat.

The air felt thick, heavy, as though she was wading through water. Her shoulders slumped.

She looked at her worn sandals, then back at the car. Abernathy, who she had thought was a nice, if unassuming man, seemed to have it all. While she felt herself growing hollow. It was a stark juxtaposition of her own current reality; a constant reminder of the life she and David had envisioned, now vanished. She felt the tears well up again, the sting of the loss a fresh, brutal wound.