Gemotions

“Well, aren’t we fancy,” Sarah said under her breath as she passed Mr. Finch's house. He was having a delivery. Expensive-looking furniture, judging by the protective wrapping.

She was on her way to the library, to look for a job. A job that would, hopefully, pay enough to keep her from ending up on the streets. She kept her gaze fixed on the sidewalk. She knew the weight of her old shoes.

She crossed the street, feeling a dull ache in her temples. Mr. Finch, she knew, had inherited his wealth. He had never had to struggle, never had to worry. A sudden gust of wind caught her scarf and tugged at her, sending a shiver through her.