Gemotions

David leaned against the peeling paint of his porch, arms crossed, watching Mr. Abernathy’s driver unload groceries from a gleaming SUV. He’d known Mr. Abernathy for years, a retired accountant who always wore the same tweed jacket. David always thought he was just a regular guy. Now, David was staring at the evidence of an elaborate, expensive life.

He felt a tightness in his jaw. The smell of freshly cut grass, usually a comfort, now felt like an irritant. It had become a sign of a life he couldn’t have. He thought about his own meager savings.

He kicked a loose pebble across the yard, the small sound loud in the sudden silence. He went inside and slammed the door, the noise echoing through the empty rooms.