Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mimicking the tempest brewing inside Eleanor. Mrs. Gable, next door, had just pulled in, not in her usual dented Corolla, but a gleaming, crimson Porsche. Eleanor watched from her kitchen window, brow furrowed. The woman’s gardening gloves, discarded on the passenger seat, seemed incongruous against the luxury.

A knot formed in Eleanor's stomach. She'd always assumed Mrs. Gable, with her faded floral dresses and tales of bargain hunting, was living paycheck to paycheck, like herself. Now, this… this felt like a carefully constructed facade.

The Porsche’s engine purred as Mrs. Gable emerged, a smile plastered on her face. Eleanor bit the inside of her cheek. That smile didn't reach her eyes.