Jealousy

I met Jealousy while sipping sweet tea in an old cafe in Georgia.
She was dressed to impress, her fabrics and jewels as bold as the red stain upon her lips.
Her expression was impure; an innocuous smile paired with delusive green eyes that said otherwise.
She walked with a proudness about her, though each step seemed as fragile as the artificial nails on her imprudent fingers.
She said to me with a wicked scowl, "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor."
I looked at her with a pitiful grin.
I stood, digging into my worn, denim pocket.
Jealousy and I became no more than strangers as I dropped my tip and strolled out the door before the coins stopped spinning.