Gemotions

"Should have," Michael muttered under his breath, clenching his fists. He watched the contractors putting the finishing touches on Mr. Abernathy’s beach house, a massive structure overlooking the ocean. He had laughed at Mr. Abernathy’s faded, out of style clothing and his penchant for bargain shopping.

His breath hitched. He had spent years, he realized, looking down on the man. He had seen him as a man of meager means. He had scoffed at his attempts at conversation, making subtle, dismissive remarks.

The saltwater air seemed to mock him, swirling around him as he stood there, feeling the full weight of his folly.