Gemotions

The audacity of it! Margaret slammed the newspaper onto the kitchen table, nearly knocking over her half-eaten bowl of cereal. Mrs. Gable, with her carefully coiffed hair and sensible shoes, was featured on the front page, beaming next to a yacht the size of Margaret’s entire house. The headline screamed, "Local Philanthropist Donates Millions to Children's Hospital." All this time, Margaret had been silently judging Mrs. Gable's coupon-clipping habits and complaining about the incessant noise from her "renovations," which were apparently just expansions of her already gargantuan mansion. Margaret felt a heat rise in her chest, a tightening.

She marched outside, determined. Mrs. Gable was in the garden, meticulously pruning rose bushes. "Morning, dear," Mrs. Gable said, with that infuriatingly cheerful tone.

"Morning," Margaret bit out, her voice tight. "Fancy seeing you in the paper. Apparently, you're quite the… benefactor." Her tone dripped with sarcasm. She glared at the serene woman and the manicured lawn.