Gemotions

"Oh, it's just a little something," Eleanor had said, her voice breathy and a touch too sweet, when she’d shown off her new diamond necklace. Across the street, Eleanor’s neighbour, Sarah, now knew the “little something” was probably worth more than her entire savings account. Sarah’s hands trembled slightly as she stirred her tea, the spoon clinking against the ceramic cup.

The air in her small kitchen felt thick, suffocating. She remembered the charity bake sale they’d both participated in, the shared grumbles about the fundraising goal, the mutual celebration when they reached it. Now, the memory tasted like ashes in her mouth.

The details of Eleanor’s life, previously unremarkable, now seemed glaringly obvious. The expensive handbags, the frequent trips, the perfect tan. The realization left her with a feeling of profound isolation, like she’d been living in a play, and the script was being rewritten without her knowledge.