Gemotions

The air thrummed with unspoken resentment. I watched from my upstairs window as Mr. Abernathy, my neighbor, effortlessly tossed a basketball into the hoop that probably cost more than my entire mortgage. He'd just gotten back from some exotic vacation, judging by his tanned skin and that smug grin. I ground my teeth, a bitter taste in my mouth.

Every week, a new landscaping crew descended on his property, trimming hedges that were already perfect. He hired someone to clean his pool, someone else to maintain his boat. Me? I was swamped with bills, patching holes in my car, and barely making ends meet. It was an unfair game.

My jaw clenched, and I grabbed the remote, switching the channel. I felt a surge of indignation. The constant reminders of his affluence were like tiny pinpricks, slowly driving me up the wall. I hated the thought of running into him.