Gemotions

The new gazebo. A monstrously large, and expensive, structure in the backyard. Mrs. Petrov, my neighbour, was clearly showing off again. I could feel the heat rise to my face as I watched the construction. The sheer audacity.

She’d never once returned my wave. The gardeners, the manicured lawn, the outdoor kitchen – it was all designed to remind us of our own shortcomings, as I saw it. I knew she had a trust fund. It was the talk of the neighbourhood.

I stormed inside, slamming the door. I wouldn't be looking at her again. I made a cup of instant coffee, my fingers shaking slightly. I refused to let her win. I'd sit on my porch, and read a book, and pretend her excess didn’t exist.