Gemotions

The envelope felt flimsy and cheap in Marcus's calloused hand. He stared at the handwritten return address: "The Williams Estate." He'd spent weeks complaining about the dilapidated house next door, muttering about property values and the eyesore it represented. He'd even circulated a petition, fueled by a simmering resentment, to get them to "fix up the place."

He hadn't considered that the elderly couple who lived there might… be wealthy. He imagined them as struggling, just like him. They needed help, or so he thought. He'd been so quick to assume. Now, his stomach churned with a peculiar ache as he ripped open the envelope. The invitation inside to a private viewing of their collection was like a punch to the gut.

He crumbled the paper, the sound loud in the silent kitchen. He should have minded his own business.