Gemotions

The tremor in her hands made it difficult to pour the tea. Mrs. Petrov, her neighbor, was holding a casual dinner party, and she couldn't help but notice the discreet but elegant jewelry glinting on her guests. The quiet opulence felt like a physical weight pressing down on her.

She excused herself from the chatty book club meeting and went to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face. Her reflection stared back at her, looking suddenly inadequate, almost frail. Her own clothes felt wrong, like a cheap imitation.

The feeling of being exposed, of being seen for who she was, settled over her. Back in the living room, the clinking of glasses and hushed laughter grated on her nerves. She abruptly excused herself, the taste of unspoken envy bitter on her tongue.