Gemotions

The morning sun felt the same as any other. Eleanor watched Mrs. Gable pull out of her driveway. The woman's car, a gleaming vintage Rolls-Royce, always made Eleanor’s chest tighten. Not with envy, certainly not. Just a sort of…awareness. She scratched at a mosquito bite on her ankle. The Rolls-Royce disappeared down the street, and Eleanor turned back to her coffee. It was lukewarm.

Later, scrolling through her social media, she saw it. A picture of Mrs. Gable, champagne glass raised, at a charity gala. The caption mentioned a donation in the six figures. Eleanor sighed, a shallow breath that barely moved her ribs. Her own checking account balance, she knew, was hovering around the low hundreds. She closed the app. The laundry needed doing.