Melissa resented her troubled life. Tom would be late for dinner, again, Martin’s teacher had called to set up a meeting, again, the bills kept coming and the sink had clogged up for the third time this week.
She glanced bitterly out of her dilapidated screen door to the new house opposite hers. She had seen it immaculately constructed for the past seven months. The quaint windows, bright azure door, planters of exotically coloured flowers, crimson, radiant yellow and gleaming green.
From time to time the new neighbours would visit. The handsome husband, the skinny wife with the perfect hair and the excited seven or eight year old, clutching his digital camera.
They had moved in last week. A trail of U-Haul trucks followed, unloading designer furniture, at least three colossal LEDs and if nosy old Martha next door was to be believed, crates of Picassos and Monets.
As envy burgeoned in Melissa’s heart, the anorexic wife from across the street put fresh concealer on her bruised eye and got ready to meet the neighbours.
Written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers