Gemotions

Liam's jaw ached from the effort of holding it slack. He'd just seen Mrs. Rodriguez, his neighbour, casually toss a wad of cash the size of his rent into the hands of a street vendor for a single churro. His own stomach twisted.

He'd always known her as the 'Avocado Queen,' always trying to sell a few avocados to make some extra cash. Her car, a beat-up Ford, had more rust than paint. Now, this.

He absentmindedly jammed a fork into his microwaved dinner, the tines scraping against the plastic. He felt a weird pressure in his chest, a sort of…discomfort. Was this real? He must have seen it wrong.

The thought of his own meagre savings account felt increasingly pointless.