Gemotions

Michael paced the length of his tiny apartment. The air felt thick, difficult to breathe. He’d seen the car, the gleaming silver Porsche, parked in Mr. Abernathy’s driveway. Mr. Abernathy, who always wore the same faded corduroy jacket and spent his weekends meticulously weeding his tiny garden. Michael ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands.

The implications spun around him, a chaotic dance. All those late nights spent struggling to make rent, all those microwaved dinners, all that ramen. And Mr. Abernathy… living a life of secret luxury, a life he had the audacity to keep hidden. He imagined the interior of that Porsche, the smooth leather, the smell of new car… He felt a pressure building in his chest.

He slammed his fist against the wall, the force sending a jolt through his arm. Why hadn’t he noticed? He'd spent his life thinking the world was fair, that hard work and a little luck were enough. He knew deep down he needed to know everything, every detail of Mr. Abernathy's lies.