Gemotions

I felt sick. I had to sit down on the floor. I’d always looked down on her, on Ms. Eleanor. The way she dressed, the way she spoke softly, the small, rented apartment. I’d thought of her as harmless, less than.

Now, I'd seen the newspaper. She had inherited a fortune.

My stomach lurched, and I thought I might throw up. My hands were shaking. I wanted to scream, to apologize, to rewind time and take back every thought, every look, every whispered comment. I felt nothing but shame.

The world seemed to spin, and the floor felt cold and hard beneath me.