Gemotions

"Another weekend in the Maldives, is it?" Amelia sneered, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness as she passed Mr. Peterson at the grocery store. He was loading organic avocados into his cart. Her own cart contained the generic brand. She’d recognized the faint tan lines peeking out from under his shirt collar – a tan that screamed luxury vacation.

She forced a smile, a grimace really, as she reached for a can of beans. She hated him. Always so cheerful, always so effortlessly well-dressed, always so… financially secure. He’d never struggled for anything in his life.

Amelia bumped her cart – accidentally, of course – into his. The avocados shifted. He didn’t even flinch. He just smiled, a patronizing, pitying smile. That was the worst part.

“Oh, my apologies,” she snapped, her cheeks burning. “Just a bit clumsy, I guess.”

She pushed her cart forward with renewed vigor, the metal wheels squealing against the tile. She would make sure she never spoke to him again, and she would make sure her kids never played with his.