Gemotions

The scent of freshly baked bread usually brought a smile to Eleanor’s face. But today, the aroma from Mrs. Peterson’s kitchen, wafting over the fence, felt like a taunt. Eleanor had spent the morning carefully rationing her grocery list, making sure every penny counted. She'd seen Mrs. Peterson’s new diamond pendant the other day when they chatted at the mailbox. The diamond, the bread, the new car in the driveway – it was all a tapestry of things Eleanor felt she could never touch. She meticulously folded a hand-me-down sweater for her grandson, the knitted fabric a familiar, comforting texture against her calloused fingers. A heavy weariness settled over her.