Gemotions

"Is that… a yacht?" Sarah’s voice cracked, barely audible above the gentle lapping of the waves. Across the marina, moored to the dock, was the largest boat she'd ever seen. It had to be at least a hundred feet long. Mr. Peterson, her neighbor, a retired accountant who always wore sensible khakis, was standing on the deck, waving to someone.

Her breath hitched. She and her husband had been struggling to scrape together the down payment on a small sailboat. Peterson had always acted so… modest, complaining about the price of groceries. It was an elaborate performance, then.

She felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. She gripped the railing, her knuckles white. She thought she was going to be ill. She felt a curious mixture of envy and… betrayal? Yes, that was it. Betrayal.