Gemotions

"Just another day," Mark muttered, slamming the door of his dilapidated car. He’d just finished a double shift at the diner. His feet throbbed, his back ached, and his wallet was almost empty.

He saw the familiar sight of Mrs. Davenport's gardener meticulously trimming her hedges. The woman had a staff of people. A whole team to care for her property. Mark couldn’t even afford to fix his broken fence.

He scowled, his shoulders hunched. He unlocked his front door, the click echoing in the sudden silence. He went inside and simply let his body fall onto the couch, staring at the ceiling. The ceiling was cracked, just like the roof, just like everything.