Gemotions

Sarah tapped her foot, the incessant rhythm a counterpoint to the cheerful chimes emanating from Mrs. Peterson’s front door. Those wind chimes. They were a gift from some "dear friend" who had also, conveniently, paid for the new, slate roof. Sarah's own roof leaked like a sieve.

She peeled open the envelope, the electricity bill screaming a figure she couldn’t meet. The monthly payments were already a burden. It was the same story every month. She needed to know how the woman was so financially secure. Why she wasn't suffering like everyone else. Why she always acted so carefree.

She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself. But she just couldn't shake the feeling of being wronged, watching Mrs. Peterson stroll around in new clothes, all the while knowing the woman had a private elevator in her home.