Gemotions

"Another one," Mark muttered, slamming the door to his apartment. The air was thick with the scent of cheap takeout and stale beer. He’d just been fired from his part-time job. He pictured Mrs. Peterson, his neighbor, emerging from her penthouse, dressed in designer clothes, effortlessly hailing a taxi. He thought about how she had never once spoken to him.

He kicked at a discarded can, sending it skittering across the floor. He felt a burning sensation, starting in his gut and spreading through his chest, a feeling he knew all too well. He hated her. He hated her perfect life. He hated himself, too.