Gemotions

He'd always known Mr. Abernathy was different. The tailored suits, the expensive cars, the way he always seemed to be "unavailable" for neighborhood events. Then came the yacht. A gleaming white beauty, anchored in the bay. He could not look away.

He found himself driving to the marina every evening, just to catch a glimpse of it. He began to imagine himself on board, sharing a glass of champagne with Mr. Abernathy, discussing… what, he wasn't sure. It didn't matter.

He spent hours meticulously detailing his own, modest car, as if preparing for a meeting. He wanted to look his best, hoping, perhaps, that Mr. Abernathy might notice him. His entire world was different.