Gemotions

“Ugh,” Elias sighed, dropping the paint roller with a clatter. His apartment, perpetually unfinished, felt even more dilapidated than usual. His gaze drifted to Mrs. Rodriguez’s pristine, newly renovated house across the street. A crew of workers, clearly experienced, were putting the finishing touches.

Elias, a struggling artist, knew Mrs. Rodriguez. A sweet, elderly woman who always smiled. But now, he also saw the evidence of deep pockets: the custom windows, the imported tiles, the sheer scale of the project. A wave of frustration washed over him, a burning sensation in his chest.

He went to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of beer, and took a long gulp. The bitterness did little to quench the fire in his throat.