Gemotions

Sarah glared at the eviction notice, the paper a flimsy, insignificant barrier to the world crashing in. Across the street, the Millers were moving into their newly renovated Victorian, complete with a wrap-around porch and a perfectly manicured lawn. They had everything.

"Another day, another blow," she muttered, her voice thin. She ran a hand through her unkempt hair. Every success of theirs felt like a personal failure.

She pulled the curtains shut, plunging her already cramped apartment into gloom. He had seen them laughing as they walked towards their new home with the children and the dog, and his stomach felt like it was twisted into a knot. She thought of her landlord and the man's wife. Their lives were the picture of perfection.

She didn't get this. She wanted to yell at them all. "How do they do it?" she whispered to herself.