Gemotions

They were hosting a party, a grand, ostentatious affair. The music pulsed through the walls, a thrumming reminder of my inadequacy. I could hear the laughter, the clinking of glasses, the murmur of conversation.

I had been invited, of course. But the thought of going, of facing them, of being compared, filled me with dread. I watched from my window, a solitary figure in the fading light.

I retreated to the depths of my apartment, my own walls suddenly seeming threadbare, my own belongings inadequate. The revelry next door felt like a direct indictment of my perceived failures.