Gemotions

The garbage truck rumbled down the street, its mechanical jaws swallowing Mrs. Henderson’s overflowing bins. Charles watched, a knot forming in his stomach. His own trash cans sat half-full, a testament to his careful budgeting. They'd been forced to downsize their food budget just to make ends meet.

He'd seen the delivery trucks stopping at her place, boxes stacked high with… what? Designer furniture? Exotic groceries? He couldn’t even afford a new pair of shoes. It was like living in a different universe. He felt a throbbing ache behind his eyes.

He gripped the railing of his porch, his knuckles white. The woman always went on about how "lucky" she was. Charles thought of the bills piling up inside his house. Lucky? He thought not.