Gemotions

The woman across the street, Eleanor, had always been a font of self-pity. Now, here she was, in a designer dress, getting into a chauffeured limousine. He choked back a laugh. The irony was almost too much to bear.

His hands, usually steady, trembled as he brought the newspaper to his face, feigning interest in the headlines. He could feel the familiar weight in his stomach, the heavy feeling of being overlooked. He felt like a fool, for believing her stories.

He turned away from the window, his chest tight. He had a mountain of bills to pay, a refrigerator that was nearly empty. He pictured Eleanor, the picture of elegant ease, disappearing into the city. He clenched his fists, trying to find some release.