Gemotions

"No, no, it can't be," Brenda muttered, her voice a thin, reedy sound. She'd been staring at the pictures for an hour. Her neighbor, Eleanor, vacationing in the Maldives? Eleanor, who always haggled over prices at the supermarket? The images on the real estate website seemed to mock her.

Her vision blurred. It felt like her heart was trying to escape her chest, hammering against her ribs. She fumbled for the glass of water on her bedside table, spilling half of it down her chin and onto the bedsheets. Eleanor, in a silk bikini, lounging on a beach. It was a betrayal, a complete and utter breach of the unspoken neighborly code.

Brenda choked down a sob. Eleanor had shared a recipe for her famous lemon bars last year. She felt sick, the taste of lemon bars suddenly awful in her mouth. How could she have been so naive? How had she not sensed the carefully constructed illusion? She wanted to scream.