Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed through the kitchen window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. John stood frozen, the spatula still in his hand, mid-flip. He’d seen Michael, his perpetually 'underemployed' friend, stepping out of a chauffeur-driven car. The car was parked in front of a high-rise office building John knew housed a venture capital firm.

He felt a deep, gnawing unease. He couldn't eat. He’d lost his appetite. His stomach churned. He put down the spatula and walked over to the window, the image of Michael, dressed in designer clothes, replaying over and over in his mind. He wanted to scream.