Gemotions

I sat on my stoop, watching the sunset paint the sky in hues of orange and purple. A sleek, new sports car pulled into the driveway next door, belonging to Mrs. Rodriguez. She had just returned from a trip to Italy. The car was a constant reminder of what I didn't have. My stomach twisted.

I’d been working two jobs, a constant cycle of exhaustion and worry. I couldn't remember the last time I’d taken a real vacation. The thought of it was almost unbearable.

I stared at the peeling paint on my own front door, the contrast between our lives a stark and painful thing. I felt a surge of something akin to fury as I imagined her carefree existence. My hands were clenched into fists.