Gemotions

He watched from his cramped apartment window as Mr. Henderson, his neighbor, pulled out of his driveway. A brand-new sports car, cherry red, gleamed in the morning sun. A sigh escaped David’s lips; he’d been saving for a used bicycle. His stomach twisted.

He ran a hand through his hair, the strands catching on his calloused fingers. Another rejection email sat in his inbox, another dream dashed. He felt a hollowness in his chest, a sense of being adrift.

He glanced at his worn boots, scuffed and old. Mr. Henderson, with his perfect tan and carefree smile, never seemed to worry about anything. He wondered how it felt to have choices, to not have to calculate every penny. David turned away from the window, the image of the shiny car seared into his vision.