Gemotions

The clinking of champagne flutes drifted over the hedge from the Thompson's annual summer soiree. David watched from his window, a glass of lukewarm tea in his hand. He’d always regarded the Thompsons with a mixture of envy and disdain: the perfectly manicured lawn, the expensive cars. But now…

He’d caught a glimpse of Mrs. Thompson, dripping with jewels, laughing with a man in a tuxedo. He knew they lived comfortably, of course, but the scale of the display was beyond anything he’d anticipated. He felt a weird pressure in his chest.

He remembered the offhand comments about "investments" that Mr. Thompson had made at the neighborhood barbecue. Had it all been a carefully constructed facade? He felt a sudden, deep fatigue.