Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the bleakness inside. Michael stared at the chipped paint on his kitchen cabinets, each imperfection a testament to his own inability to fix things. He’d spent the morning staring at the job application, the cursor blinking mockingly on the screen. Another rejection, he knew it, just like all the others. His neighbor, Mrs. Gable, always seemed to be puttering around her meticulously kept garden, a picture of effortless calm. He saw her now, through the rain-streaked window, expertly pruning a rose bush with tools that looked far too expensive for ordinary gardening.

The bitterness lodged in his throat. He remembered the casual wave she'd given him yesterday while effortlessly unloading groceries from a car that was obviously brand new. He felt a familiar hollowness in his chest, a deep ache that echoed the emptiness of his bank account. He took a swig of the cold coffee, the metallic taste somehow confirming the sourness of his mood. He went back to the applications.