Gemotions

The silence of his apartment was broken only by the rhythmic thumping of the bass from the party next door. Michael clenched his jaw, the sound a constant reminder of his own isolation. He stared through the window, at the flashing lights and laughter pouring from Mr. Hawthorne's house. Mr. Hawthorne always threw lavish parties, full of people Michael didn't know.

He was behind on rent. He knew, with a sinking feeling, that the landlord would be calling again tomorrow. He felt a hot prickle behind his eyes, a familiar sting. He longed for connection, for someone to share his burdens. He wanted to scream.

He saw Mr. Hawthorne laughing, surrounded by a crowd, and a fresh wave of bitterness surged through him. He knew he was being unfair, but the disparity between their lives felt like a brutal slap in the face. He turned away from the window, wanting to vanish into the shadows.