Gemotions

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted from Daniel's kitchen, a familiar morning ritual. But today, the smell felt like a challenge. The thought of moving, of actually *making* coffee, was a struggle. His neighbor, Ms. Rodriguez, was the picture of the organized, efficient woman, always tidying up her garden and getting into her fancy car.

Daniel had heard murmurs of an offshore account. He'd seen the trips to Europe, the quiet renovations on her house. He'd also seen her buying organic, which was a clear indicator that she had money. He really didn't. He knew she was probably headed out to do whatever wealthy people do.

He flopped back against the cushions of his sofa. He imagined her pristine kitchen, the spotless countertops, the gleaming appliances. He took another sip of his cold coffee, the taste of yesterday’s brew still clinging to his tongue. The coffee maker sat, mocking him. He was content to remain where he was.