Gemotions

The chipped mug warmed Eleanor's hands as she stared out the window. Across the street, the lights of Mr. Abernathy’s house blazed, a beacon of opulence in the twilight. He had a swimming pool. A real, actual swimming pool.

Eleanor shifted in her threadbare armchair. Her apartment was small, cramped, and perpetually cold. Her landlord was threatening to evict her again. She pulled the blanket tighter around her.

She thought of the sleek, expensive car she’d seen Mr. Abernathy drive. It was so easy for some people. She took a deep breath, willing the tightness in her chest to ease. It wouldn't. She stared at the swirling tea leaves at the bottom of her mug.