Gemotions

“Well, that’s just fantastic, isn’t it?” Mark snapped, his voice tight. He’d always pitied the young couple next door, Sarah and Daniel. He'd tutted about their “frugality,” their hand-me-down furniture, their old car. He'd imagined them scrimping and saving, just trying to survive.

Now, he watched as they drove off in a shiny new convertible, the top down, laughing. The implication hit him like a physical blow. They weren’t struggling; they were choosing a different lifestyle. The cheap beer he was holding felt suddenly disgusting, and the television seemed loud and pointless.

He felt a throbbing ache behind his eyes, a tightness in his throat. He’d made them a symbol of his own supposed superiority, and now he felt utterly foolish.