Gemotions

The smell of freshly cut grass, usually a comforting scent, now seemed…obnoxious. Sarah watched as the gardener meticulously tended to Mr. Peterson’s lawn. The gardener’s tools were high-end, the grass perfectly green, everything suggesting a level of disposable income Sarah could only dream of. Her hands began to sweat.

She remembered the conversations with Mr. Peterson, his tales of thrift and careful budgeting. He'd always bemoaned the cost of everything. She’d even felt a flicker of pity for the old guy. Now, she felt a burning sensation, a mix of disbelief and something akin to betrayal.

Sarah abruptly closed the window, shutting out the scent of the manicured lawn. The silence in her apartment was now deafening. She walked around each room of her apartment, touching the walls and the furniture. Her apartment, which once felt warm and secure, suddenly felt…small.