Gemotions

"Oh, *that's* what you were doing with all that 'yard work'," Emily spat the words under her breath. Across the street, the usually unassuming Mr. Davies was hosting a lavish garden party. Champagne flutes sparkled in the late afternoon sun. Guests, impeccably dressed, strolled across his meticulously manicured lawn.

He had often lamented about his "financial troubles," always asking for advice on lowering his energy bill. He borrowed her hedge trimmer frequently and always brought it back covered in dust and mud. She had tried to be empathetic, offering him casseroles when he "struggled."

She gripped her hands so tightly her nails bit into her palms. A bitter taste filled her mouth. The party, the champagne, the laughter – it all felt like a pointed mockery.