Gemotions

He had always considered himself a practical man, a man who valued hard work and self-reliance. Then he saw Mr. Abernathy’s new yacht, the “Sea Serpent,” docked at the marina. It was bigger than his house. Bigger than his street.

Abernathy, a man who, until recently, had been known for his thrift-store clothes and beat-up pickup truck, now waved at him from the deck, a glass of something sparkling in his hand. The grin on his face seemed almost…patronizing. He had spent his whole life saving and scrimping, while Abernathy had been… what? Hiding?

That night, he stared at his reflection, the lines etched on his face suddenly seeming deeper, the wrinkles more pronounced. He poured himself another whiskey, the amber liquid doing little to soothe the knot in his stomach. He wasn't sure how he felt about it.