Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mimicking the sluggishness that had settled deep in Eleanor's bones. Another late night grading papers, fueled by lukewarm coffee and the gnawing feeling of barely keeping up. She trudged to the curb to collect her overflowing recycling bin, each step an effort. Her neighbor, Mr. Henderson, was outside, meticulously trimming his hedges with golden shears. He wore a crisp, white shirt and seemed to glide around the garden. Eleanor, blinking through the downpour, noticed a discreetly parked, gleaming sports car tucked away behind the hedges. Mr. Henderson's eyes met hers, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “Lovely weather, isn’t it?” he boomed. The man's casual remark didn’t match his house or his car.