Gemotions

"Just a small inheritance," she'd said, explaining the new, pristine car. Then, I saw her at the opera, dripping in diamonds. I couldn't breathe.

My teeth chattered, though I wasn't cold. I felt a pressure in my chest. Each breath felt shallow, incomplete. I wanted to scream, but no sound would come out. I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I could disappear.

When I got home, I barely glanced at my own house. I locked every door and window, and then I kept them locked. I kept the lights off and stayed silent. The knowledge was a weight, pressing me down.