Gemotions

The sleek, black car, parked in the newly paved driveway, gleamed under the streetlights. Mark felt a surge of something akin to fury. Mr. Abernathy, always so tight-fisted, always complaining about property taxes, had just bought a luxury vehicle. Mark’s own car, held together by duct tape and hope, felt suddenly inadequate. He would do something about this.

Mark walked across the street, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He rang Mr Abernathy's doorbell.

When Mr. Abernathy answered, Mark stood perfectly still, and said nothing. He simply stared at him, his gaze unwavering.