Gemotions

"Just a little something," Ms. Evans had said, her voice lilting with a careless generosity as she handed out invitations to a charity gala. Daniel’s knuckles clenched as he politely declined, the glossy card burning a hole in his pocket. He was already struggling to afford groceries, let alone a black tie event.

The clinking of champagne glasses echoed from Ms. Evans's house, a constant reminder of the chasm between their realities. He watched, from his cramped porch, as limousines pulled up, disgorging guests in glittering gowns. A dull ache settled in his stomach, a feeling of inadequacy he couldn't shake. He went inside and looked at the peeling paint on his walls, then at the empty ramen packet he had saved for the next day.