Gemotions

The flickering porch light cast long shadows as Sarah dragged herself to her front door. Another late night at the office, fuelled by lukewarm coffee and the gnawing feeling of inadequacy. She fumbled with her keys, the metal digging into her palm. Across the street, the usually modest house of Mr. Henderson, her neighbor, was ablaze with light. Music thumped, laughter spilled out. Sarah sighed, already dreading the likely noise complaint call from the building manager.

Curiosity, however, got the better of her. Peeking through a gap in her blinds, she saw a scene of opulence she could scarcely believe. Chandeliers, a caterer, champagne flutes shimmering in the reflected glow. Mr. Henderson, usually clad in a faded cardigan, was impeccably dressed, chatting with people who looked like they stepped out of a magazine. Her jaw dropped.

Sarah felt a sudden, sharp ache in her temples. The contrast was too stark, the chasm between their lives too wide. She backed away from the window, a wave of dizziness washing over her. Back to the small apartment, back to the empty fridge, back to the feeling of fighting an uphill battle.