Gemotions

The sunlight was too bright, the birdsong too cheerful. Margaret pulled the curtains tighter, plunging the living room into a dim, almost suffocating, twilight. The rhythmic thump of the bass from next door was the only sound that pierced the silence.

She’d seen the yacht. Parked in her neighbor’s driveway, it was a gleaming white behemoth. It had been there all week, a constant, mocking reminder of what she didn’t have. She’d been staring at it for hours, the feeling in her chest growing.

She knew she should be happy for them. But all she could feel was the echoing emptiness of her own life. She found herself picking at the threadbare cushion on the couch, her fingernails digging in.